


Legacy

by Drelin



Category: Bayonetta (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Polyamory, Slow Burn, will retag with additional characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drelin/pseuds/Drelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They felt the calling in their bones, a gentle whisper caressing their skin with the passing of each somber day. If not for the sake of their legacy, both would have succumbed to the flames long ago. But that was what kept them running, kept them on their toes, kept their fate <em>alive</em>.</p><p>She heard their calls, but for now, she could not answer. Would not answer. Bayonetta was no fool, and neither was Jeanne; whatever feverish creatures demanded their attention would receive it at the end of a sharpened heel. That had always been the solution.</p><p>They simply hadn't expected it to be a <em>Sage</em>.</p><p>Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transition

**Author's Note:**

> What's that? Did I hear something about Jeannetta cuddles and back to school tomfoolery? Did I hear about the destruction of every muscle fiber in my body while writing this because it's so confusing? Well, hopefully Bayo and friends will be less happy and more angsty in the next chapter to make reading through this shameless fantasy at least somewhat bearable.
> 
> ...Literally nothing happens in this chapter. I hate myself. I had to edit the format 3 times because I've never used ao3 lmao...

It was a fine September morning, a day filled with traces of snow, shades of gray lingering upon the framed windows of a particularly bright penthouse far removed from society's eyes. Slipping one leg out from under the covers, Bayonetta reached up and took her glasses from the silver nightstand. With a yawn, she propped an elbow up on her obnoxiously fluffed pillow and glanced at her Umbran Watch.

"Jeanne," she mumbled, annoyed. The platinum blonde didn't even crack open an eye; she was still, as always, out like a light. Perhaps letting her stay up for the night drinking potent wine had been a bad idea. Not the _worst_ idea Bayonetta had let Jeanne get away with, but still a relatively bad one, considering her friend's current situation.

"You're going to be _late_ ," she tried, again, this time leaning over to shake the sleeping beauty. On a side note, Jeanne looked very pretty in the mornings. The way the dawn light spilled over the bed illuminated her face and gave her features a softer, almost tender appearance.

Until she opened her mouth, at least.

"Ohhhh," Jeanne rolled over and away from Bayonetta's inquiring pokes, elongating the groan while throwing her pillow over her head. "Fuck."

"Why is the first coherent word that comes out of your mouth almost always some offhanded curse?"

"I think I have a hangover," Jeanne remedied slowly, finally opening one grey eye to glare at her friend.

Bayonetta leveled her own tired stare at her. "Jeanne, do you know what day it is?"

"I know what time it is," Jeanne retorted, reaching out to fumble for her watch. She eyed the time with obvious disdain, almost as if the watch itself had offended her by springing to life and spitting in her face. "Cereza, it's barely five in the morning."

"Yes, Jeanne," she pressed. "It also happens to be September ninth."

Jeanne blinked hazily, processing the information. September ninth was...

Right. First day of school.

Jeanne stretched lazily, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes. Fluttering her eyelashes at Bayonetta, she gently plucked off the covers and slid out of bed. Though she wasn't in too much of a rush, there was at least an excited gleam to her still-sleepy eyes. Bayonetta knew that look too well to bother continuing the conversation - once Jeanne realized it was her time to shine, then there was no stopping her. 

Such behavior brought up unwanted memories. A flash of expanding darkness, glimmers of rows and rows of bloodshot eyes and demonic roars. Turning, seeing, feeling - _Cereza!_ \- one moment of tight trepidation as draconic maws snapped shut - _No...this isn't how things end.._.

Yes, she recalled, sparing a glance at Jeanne's exposed, curved backside and the sharp sleekness of her pale arms. She knew far too well what extent Jeanne would go to just to save an old friend.

Pushing the memories aside, Bayonetta rose from the bedside and took a more detailed look at her fellow witch. Letting her grey eyes trail downwards, Bayonetta smirked at the ample, perky bottom Jeanne sported. Mother nature must have wanted to make up for her rather flat bosom - and she did a damn good job of it. It gave her something to look forward to in the mornings.

"Cereza! We have an hour before we must leave. Hurry!"

Bayonetta smiled. Only Jeanne could enjoy mornings during school season, though the woman had been half-complaining only minutes before."I'm coming. Don't get your panties in a knot."

"If I recall correctly," the lighter-haired witch shot back, cleaning her glasses frame, "the only person with their panties wrapped in spiraling ribbons around their ass would be _you._ "

"Jeanne, you _bought_ those for me," Bayonetta replied, smoothing a hand through her short stray black strands. "How could I waste such a precious gift? After all, you were so happy to see me wear them..."

Jeanne snorted, but chose to continue brushing her teeth instead of biting back with another retort. Bayonetta probably didn't actually know how she felt about that but...well...she was _right..._

With a snap of her fingers, Jeanne's brilliant platinum blonde hair receded, back to a more familiar short cut. She couldn't just appear in front of her students with such an elegantly flowing hairstyle! The school board would have her head for encouraging outlandish standards. After all, no one would be able to match it, and the children might use it to feed their constantly running rumor mill.

(Bayonetta was pretty sure she did it because walking into school with a completely new hairstyle would throw off her students and bring far too much attention to her. Plus, the hair looked _ridiculous._ Honestly. It did. Sometimes she swore she saw cockroaches and spiders living in there, a stark contrast to the light hair.)

By the time both of them had finished freshening up and taking breakfast, they had a few minutes left to spare. The sun, by then, had still barely risen; what was left of that miraculous early light had long faded into the background and felt as if days had passed rather than an hour. The wave of darkness did not lessen Jeanne's mood, however, and Bayonetta felt something long abandoned stir in her bones.

"We'll be teaching in classrooms right next to each other," Jeanne said, pleased. "Though I do wonder why the board would put a history class besides bible studies."

"Considering this is European history, I'm not surprised," Bayonetta waved a perfumed hand. "The witch hunts do go hand and hand with the Bible, don't they?"

Jeanne raised an eyebrow. "Since when was that established? Don't let your students catch you saying that. The board won't be quite too happy with your performance, then. Your nun outfit gives you no extra credit with them."

"My job as a nun is for relaxation, Jeanne. I wouldn't mind being booted for such a nonsensical thing. Simply gives me more me time, wouldn't you say?"

"Cereza, that is the mindset that will eventually get us both killed. The last time we had such a session resulted in my pseudo-death and you journeying across all three Trinities of Reality before fighting an ancient god for the sake of the world."

"Oh, hush," Bayonetta laughed, uncrossing her legs with her familiar (shit-eating, Jeanne had once commented) smile. "Let us hurry, then, before anyone similarly unwelcome comes calling."

  


-

  


"I'll see you during lunch, then, Cereza. Do take care," Jeanne waved, watching her friend shoot her a rather unreadable wink as she slid through her classroom door. Sometimes she couldn't tell the difference between being blatantly flirty or platonically accepting with her.

Settling down at her desk, she unpacked her tools (pens, papers for the first day, tissue boxes for the poor returning students, and...a gun? Fuck, she'd have to hide the weapon in her hair again. _Fuck! Her hair was short!_ ) There was still time before the first students would start streaming in, so she allowed herself a moment of respite to revise the material she had to present.

Half an hour passed, and the first few students began to trickle in. A shabby-haired boy, another with a finger up his nostril, three chatting young ladies wearing bright red lipstick, and one lone pajama-wearing senior in a beanie milled about at the entrance. Giving them her most approachable smile, Jeanne gestured the somewhat clueless kids inside. They seemed to be avoiding each other, for the individuals had chosen desks far from the other (exempting the lipstick clique, who Jeanne decided were probably just being themselves and not purposefully giving off a terrifying aura.)

It took maybe another ten minutes before the rest of the student body had arrived. Adjusting her glasses, she pulled up the attendance tab from her laptop. "I believe we've all been acquainted before," she started pleasantly, from her desk. "Though it seems there are a few new faces today. Pardon me if I get any names wrong.

"Jamie Black." 

"Here."

"Timothy Briggs?"

"Yeah?" the nose-picking student leaned back in his chair and flicked a booger off his finger. Jeanne tried not to wince at the rude gesture.

"Ah. Leah Clarence?"

The leader of the lipstick clique raised a hand sharply. "Available," she answered, in a remarkably lazy tone, causing her two friends to giggle like schoolboys discovering the existence of pornography. Which, surprisingly, was not the least pleasant thing to hear, but certainly not the most.

This continued, back and forth, until the last student.

"Helen Ziracah?"

No answer. 

"...Helen Ziracah?"

Someone punched a hunched figure in the corner of the room, who threw up a hand in surprise. "That's me, sorry," came a surprisingly feather-light voice that sounded just a bit too world-weary for their age. The girl, Helen, cleared her throat and tried again. "Here."

Jeanne nodded absently, reminding herself to keep an eye on a few specific students. Timothy Briggs...from hearsay, was one who wasn't too thrilled with being stacked with homework and had a violently rebellious streak. Leah Clarence, though impeccably attractive and often top of the class, liked to talk back or undermine professors...and, now, Helen Ziracah, who seemed to fall asleep in class at odd intervals.

Class seemed nice enough. The first day wasn't meant to teach any of her prepared material, so she let the students have free reign of discussion and future aspirations, as any good teacher should. Of course, it was partially because of the pounding headache that had taken residence in her head, but that wasn't something she'd show to the kids. 

The topics came to an abrupt halt when Timothy whistled hawkishly at Helen's sleeping form, causing the girl to jerk awake and knock her knee loudly against her desk. Swearing under her breath in a language Jeanne couldn't quite make out, Helen put her face back on her desk in an attempt to mask her embarrassment. Jamie snorted into his bottle of water, spilling some on his shirt, and Leah sighed at the sight, putting a hand on her face in mock horror.

Jeanne had a feeling it was going to be those four this year. There was _always_ the One Group who unleashed hell, unwittingly or not, in a class. (she had, technically, been one of those children five hundred years ago, but would never admit it in anyone's presence. Not even Cereza. Definitely not with Cereza around.)

"So...what about next period?" Timothy grinned crookedly. Leah rolled her eyes. Jeanne, attempting to broker peace (she was a _witch_ , not a _babysitter_ ), sat with her legs crossed in a part intimidating, part kind manner. 

"What _about_ next period?" Jamie had put down his water bottle to scrub furiously at his wet shirt with a tissue. 

A few other students mumbled in agreement, some conversing in their own private corners about their next period. Jeanne, to her credit, hadn't really taught senior history in a few years. The first day shouldn't have been so lax...but, for the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care due to the hangover angrily residing in her head. God, she shouldn't have drank the entire bottle. It made paying attention so much harder.

"Aren't you guys mad about getting into bible studies? Let me tell you, I flunked that class last year," Timothy said, reclining even further back in his chair. "I might fly by in math, but man, I can't stand that class."

Jeanne raised an eyebrow, prepared to make a tight comment, but Helen interjected her own two cents before Jeanne could. In fact, it was the first time the girl had participated in the general flow of conversation. "Timothy, have you _seen_ the teacher this year?"

Timothy glanced at her. "Well, you didn't see the one last year, 'coz you weren't at this school," he told her, goofily. "God, she was a monster. Had the whole nun gig going, and slammed a ruler on your desk whenever you closed your eyes for more than two seconds."

"No, she didn't, you're just reliably unbearable," Leah muttered, much to Jeanne's inner amusement.

Helen shrugged. She leaned in, conspiratorially, for some reason wide awake while on the topic of bible studies. Jeanne made a mental note to check into her fascination. 

"Her name's Ms. Butterfly," Helen started. "I heard the staff call her Madama Butterfly because she's really ladylike. But did you _see_ her? Like, actually see her?"

"What about it? She's got a nice rack and a cute name," Jamie hooted, causing Leah to whip out a pair of scissors and knock over his water bottle, creating another nicely-sized spill.

Helen gave him a cursory glance. "Having a nice rack and, uh, body besides," the girl said, blood rushing to her ears, "have you heard the rumors around her? You know the bar? The Gates of Hell?"

"From the Dump?" Timothy sat straight up in his chair, excited. "I've been trying to get into that shit since I was little! Ah, I'm, I'm sorry for the slip, Ms. Arc. It won't, uh, happen again."

Jeanne held her breath. "It's of no consequence," she said, far too interested in the words coming out of Helen's mouth to give him any sort of reprimand. "Just remember that profanities will be punished from here onward."

(Later, Jeanne would curse herself for missing such a grand opportunity. She could've dragged Timothy so hard his ass would've landed on the doorstep to hell, namely Fimbulventr, but she'd been too distracted to finish the task. Cereza would probably never let her live this down if she dared mention it.)

"Yeah, that's the one," Helen said, seemingly appreciating the positive attention that was being lavished on her. She was starting to clam up, however, and the one hour period was ending. "Well, you'll see what I mean when you actually get a good look at her. It's an eyeful and a lot to take in, you know. But not her boobs! _Not her boobs, Jamie_!" Jamie was practically howling in response to Helen's proclamation, and Leah had long quit trying to stop the boy from performing his ridiculous antics. Jeanne, for one, no longer felt comfortable with letting the kids have complete free reign of the topic any more. She was a _witch_ , an _angel killer_. However, dealing with seniors in an American high school was...a much different experience.

"I mean," Helen said, looking at Timothy, "You guys have heard about what the Gates of Hell really is, right? And that no one has evidence of its contents because of the whole secrecy pact?"

"If you're implying that the _nun_ can get in, I'm out of here," Timothy scrunched up his face.

"Well if you'd just listen to me explain it for another five seconds, maybe you'd get the point," Helen shot back. She glanced at Leah, who seemed interested, for some reason. "See, everyone knows the Gates of Hell are real. People go there all the time. But ever since the Platinum Stars nearly killed themselves in an unexplained flight accident, business there has been booming. The Dump was practically buzzing about it!"

Timothy looked unconvinced. "Yeah, everyone's been talking about it. Last year was a trainwreck."

"No one's actually seen the barkeep around here," Helen continued. "They say he wears sunglasses to hide his eyes because - "

"They're sensitive to sunlight?" Leah raised an eyebrow, and Helen reluctantly paused. 

"Err, no, actually," she said. "Look, I know it's pretty implausible and all of you are probably as religious as a freshly cooked pork roast, but it's supposedly a fact that his eyes are _red_."

"...Uh," Timothy kicked up a foot to rest on the opposing chair, which happened to be the edge of Helen's seat. "So what's the point?"

"You took bible studies already," Helen frowned. "You know the whole dichotomy about heaven and hell, right - "

"Jesus, Helen, you're not gonna trick me into a biblical conversation about rumors around my favorite bar," Timothy said, flabbergasted. "You're telling me he's some fallen angle or some crazy shit? That's a great idea for a story, but look, I wanted real details, not make believe."

"No, but that's not it," Helen pressed, nervously. "The nun. The, uh, new teacher for bible studies. I told you to get a good look at her, right? It's because she might be dangerous. Red fell from heaven and ruled hell, blue like fire watched from above. It's what's in between that's to fear, though. S'what I got from my dad's friend." 

Jeanne narrowed her eyes, ever so slightly. 

"Who? Aw, man, you mean Enzo? That nutjob's not reliable," Jamie intervened, grinning. "And the nuns. They follow the word of God, and God doesn't serve hell, Helen. Might want to cut back on the weed." At this, Jamie began to laugh, probably at a joke that Jeanne wasn't able to detect. Maybe it just wasn't funny, considering no one else was laughing.

"Her eyes! I'm talking about her eyes!" Helen said, exasperated, as the bell rung. Jamie's laughter had dumbed down into small cackles, but Helen's point still hadn't gone across. Jamie was coughing, wondering how their new teacher's eyes related to the Gates of Hell. Helen turned to Jeanne, eyes flashing in disappointment. 

Whatever she saw in Jeanne's eyes in that moment, the platinum blonde didn't know; it certainly shut the girl up indefinitely, though, and she was dragged out the door with the rest of her classmates before Jeanne could even muster up the energy to approach her.

  


-

  


"That was the most tiring day of my life," Bayonetta declared, throwing herself upon the lavender couch. She kicked off her heels, letting them land directly at Jeanne's feet as she opened the door to their penthouse.

"Better keep quiet tonight, Cereza, else the neighbors below might get cold feet and call an exorcist," Jeanne smiled ominously, earning her a cheeky grin from Bayonetta. 

"How was class today for you, Jeanne? I certainly enjoyed myself, regardless of having to keep track of thirty children at once." Bayonetta reached out an elegant hand to pluck a small rose-shaped lollipop from their designated candy jar on the granite countertop. "Second period especially. The little gremlins couldn't keep their eyes off of me." she shook her head in disbelief, sticking the sweet in her mouth. "And here I thought the nun garb would get me a ticket away from high school infatuation." 

"You know how they are," Jeanne said, tiredly. "You have Timothy in your class, don't you?"

"The brown-haired one with a disturbingly large pimple on his left cheek? If so, yes," Bayonetta replied, stretching out on the couch like a sunbathing cat. Jeanne cocked her head to the side. No other comment? Nothing but children constantly hounding her? Certainly Helen's gossip would have reached her ears if the girl had continued...

Taking a seat beside her Umbran sister, Jeanne reached out and took her hand, startling her friend.

"It's not even three yet," Bayonetta mumbled pleasantly, but didn't retract her hand.

"Excuse me," Jeanne raised an eyebrow, "but are you legitimately rejecting a chance to - "

"Fine, fine! At least let me get to the bed," Bayonetta waved a hand before sticking a foot into Jeanne's lap. "Or, you could carry me there," the black-haired witch smiled seductively.

Jeanne pretended not to notice the back of her neck flushing. "If you insist," she muttered, much to Bayonetta's delight. "I am _not_ doing this for you if you get knocked unconscious by a few thrown Affinities again."

"That was _once,_ " Bayonetta whined, removing the quickly finished lollipop from her mouth and throwing the stick in the trash. "And I was fighting four Beloved while trying to avoid being eaten by an Inspired. I don't recall you doing anything about it."

"I, at least, was aware of my surroundings," Jeanne scoffed. "Rodin throws things. You should have expected it."

Bayonetta sniffed, and tugged insistently on her hand. As Jeanne leaned over to wrap an arm around her waist, Bayonetta took the opportunity to remind her of her debt. "I picked you up like this about a year ago," she said, with half-lidded eyes.

"I was dead," Jeanne stared back, not sure how to respond. "Legitimately dead in this world, Cereza. That does not count, at all."

"Not yet, technially," Bayonetta said, shrugging in a way that wouldn't disrupt Jeanne's grasp on her. "Though I suppose it doesn't count if you didn't feel it. But it was a very emotional moment, let me tell you."

Jeanne smiled, tightening her hold on her friend's waist and causing Bayonetta to huff indignantly at the gesture of affection. "It is a perfect afternoon to spend in bed," she said, voice low.

Bayonetta laughed, a lilting sound that reminded Jeanne of ancient church bells and the soft hum of fireflies at night. Wait, were those even sounds that matched? What the fuck was she thinking? _What the fuck?_

"Indeed, if we could manage to get there without you dropping me." Bayonetta swung a leg around Jeanne, as if to annoy her. "And I would prefer it if you changed back to your longer hair. It makes me look far more fabulous."

"Due to contrast of style, or simply because you believe I look horrible?" Jeanne raised an eyebrow as she used one arm to lift her friend and the other to remove the leg hugging her.

"I would say both," Bayonetta hummed, and Jeanne finally took the chance to sling her over her shoulder while transforming her hair back to Bayonetta's preference. Sadly, in the process, her friend received a full smack of hair in the face while slung over Jeanne's perfectly shaped shoulder.

"Oh, dear," Jeanne purred, more catlike than ever. "I'm so sorry, Cereza. My mistake."

"You know, I am officially rescinding my statement," Bayonetta removed a strand of platinum hair from her mouth with a disgruntled hand. "You are more than horrible. Absolutely dreadful. You were practically being absorbed into a demon's vagina before I saved you, and this is how you treat me?"

"That was a year ago, so I've paid you back by saving you from being mobbed by more Affinities while you were unconscious," Jeanne reminded her. Bayonetta casually flipped her off from behind, expression mild. At this, Jeanne had made her way to the bed and unceremoniously plopped her fellow witch onto the brilliant white sheets. Bayonetta made a pleased noise, immediately stretching out on the bed and taking up at least three-fourths of the space.

"Move over, you hog," Jeanne laughed, pushing Bayonetta over. Bayonetta proceeded to roll sideways while striking a few of her signature poses, pointedly aiming her well-shaped legs at her watching friend.

"Practicing your art of seduction?" Jeanne asked, dryly.

"You could say that," Bayonetta turned her head to grin cheekily. "It's working quite well, don't you think?"

"Luka did tell me I had a better ass," Jeanne mentioned offhandedly, looking at her fingernails. "Now I can tell why."

"Oh, stuff it," Bayonetta pouted. Jeanne prided herself as being the only person allowed to see Bayonetta in a state of puffed cheeks and casual hands on her hips. Puffed cheeks especially. Now _that_ was a sight you don't normally see. "You know who really has the better ass, and it's me."

Jeanne ignored her comment and sat down at the edge of the bed, watching Bayonetta get more comfortable on top of the sheets. "Take off your coat," she instructed. "We just cleaned these yesterday."

"You mean _I_ cleaned these yesterday, while you were drunk," Bayonetta corrected, but threw the fluffy coat on a nearby chair anyways. Jeanne followed suit with her own brown jacket and settled down next to Bayonetta, who leaned in on her shoulder.

Jeanne put a hand on Bayonetta's hip and tugged at the robe. "While I'm glad that you took off the headgear and coat, the robes are still a problem," she teased.

"What? Don't like it?"

"I'm not particularly interested in cosplay, no."

In a short flurry of movement, Bayonetta managed to untangle herself from the simple nun garb and throw it onto the chair containing all their clothes for the day. Jeanne, for one, was incredibly pleased by the fact that she had gotten Bayonetta near-naked in less than fifteen minutes. For holy reasons, of course. No underhanded feelings underneath at all. Completely chummy. 

"It's your turn to move over," Bayonetta mumbled, placing a chaste kiss on Jeanne's cheek. She placed her hands on Jeanne's shirt, unbuttoning the formal dress shirt and leaving it open.

"This is getting dangerously close to - " Bayonetta put a finger up to Jeanne's lips, interrupting her sentence, and laughed gently. 

"Relax, Jeanne, I know what you're comfortable with. Now tell me," she said, gesturing to herself, "What exactly did you want from this?"

"Well, cuddling, for one," Jeanne looked a bit offended. 

"We could have done that fully clothed," Bayonetta raised an eyebrow. She settled back into the covers, however. "And here I thought you wanted something more than a nap. I suppose Luka has been rubbing off on me, though he's been very roundabout about it."

"Luka has been perfectly restrained," Jeanne snorted, but laid down next to Bayonetta. "I was meaning to ask you about something," she said, comfortably.

"No sex? Typical," Bayonetta smiled, and Jeanne was temporarily distracted by the little gap in her front teeth. Had that been there when she'd lost her memories? Had that been there a few years ago? 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Jeanne refocused back onto her worries. "Quiet, you," she muttered. "I've been thinking."

"Oh, my. Another dangerous endeavor you've only recently undertaken successfully," Bayonetta agreed nonchalantly, before Jeanne smacked her in the face with a plush crow.

"Cereza, I'm being serious," she said. The other witch gave her a lookover and shrugged for the umpteenth time that day.

"Go on," Bayonetta said, this time far less resplendently.

"Recently, things have been far too...easy," she said. "Ever since the disappearance of the Eyes...there have been less and less attacks by Paradiso, and Inferno has nearly cut off all contact."

"Demons could care less, and the angels have no reason to touch this world," Bayonetta leaned back against the soft headboard. "Has that ever stopped them, though? I can't recall a single time they decided to leave us in peace for more than a few spotty days."

"But with the Eyes gone, there should be no way for them to conveniently influence this dimension," Jeanne leaned closer to her friend, who responded by pulling her onto her side. "It's been eras since Aesir's split and, now, his Eyes are forever lost. Should the world be at peace? Or can everything be recreated?"

Bayonetta paused at this, her eyes fixed and glazed at something in the distance. "I don't know," she sighed. "I'm not even sure if Loki was right about how humans may shape their destiny with their own hands. Perhaps the world's doomed to end in a few months. Would be unsurprising."

"...Do we have a purpose anymore?"

"What was our purpose in the first place, Jeanne?" Bayonetta asked, and closed her eyes. "The Umbran Witches and Lumen Sages, working together in harmony for the balance of the Trinities of Reality. Was it Aesir's choice to place the power of change in our hands?"

"The silence is unsettling," Jeanne admitted, to Bayonetta's surprise. "There was always something large looming in the distance. It was reassuring to know that there was something to combat, something to fight for, regardless if we knew _how_ to. But now..."

"Now there is no certainty," Bayonetta agreed, putting her face against Jeanne's cheek jokingly. She smoothed a hand over Jeanne's long hair, and memorized the feeling of her bare hands resting at her hips. "I suppose that's what makes living so exciting," she whispered into Jeanne's skin, causing the lighter-haired witch to turn and sharply bump noses with her.

"Oh - fuck, Jeanne, what was that for? I was trying to be romantic!" she protested, rubbing the growing sore spot on the tip of her nose. 

"Save that for Luka! I'm trying to figure out what the purpose of our existence is and you nearly made me melt from secondhand embarrassment!"

"Well, you should've expected it! You're the one who pulled me into bed for an afternoon nap!"

Jeanne opened her mouth to give another snarky response, but visibly drooped at the mention. "Ah, yes, about that..." she trailed off. "We're not exactly getting any sleep, Cereza." she sighed. It wasn't a lie. That was all she'd expected. A nap.

Bayonetta gave her an overtly suspicious look. "...Yes," she agreed. "That's true. My mistake." she nodded, apologetically. Jeanne hoped she wouldn't bring this up in the future. Today was...not her day. "About your all-encompassing existential crisis...?"

"Well, it's not that we no longer appear to serve a specific purpose, but _children_ are catching onto Rodin's scent, and, by extension, yours," Jeanne said, consciously resting her back against the headboard instead of Bayonetta's side.

"That's not - wait," Bayonetta yawned, then threw her an incredulous look. "Repeat that."

"You had Helen in your second class, didn't you?"

Bayonetta frowned. "The gangly brunette that never talks unless called upon?"

"Well, yes. Helen Ziracah," Jeanne said, amicably. "A chatterbox, actually. She was very sure you were some sort of demonic woman related to the Gates of Hell, or, more specifically, Rodin." Jeanne licked her lips. "And she apparently received this information from Enzo, of all people."

"Enzo? We've done business on a regular basis for the past few months," Bayonetta put a hand on her face. "Has he gotten so bold as to spread rumors to the general populace? I have my doubts."

"It could be a different man. Even so, not many would believe him, but it does appear a few kids think it's true," Jeanne said. "Only one so far, but there could be more. Just thought you might want to know in case you find children chasing after you in a way similar to Luka."

"I'll take that into account," Bayonetta pursed her lips. "Quite the predicament we have on our hands."

Jeanne made a mental note to investigate further, but first, she'd have to figure out their schedule for the next few months before acting. "Our only option is to wait," she reasoned. "It may be weeks, even months, before these rumors begin to bear fruit. In all actuality, they may never amount to anything."

Bayonetta's eyes flashed, something akin to concern in her confident features. She could understand the worry that constantly hounded Jeanne, but for it to bother her enough to bring it to her own attention was new. Their interaction usually involved shopping or business deals, nowadays; there was rarely time for bonding like they had in their childhood. Little Cereza and Jeanne now seemed a dream; the childlike happiness had been robbed from them for centuries, and it still appeared unattainable.

"We can wait as long as it takes," Bayonetta told her, allowing one small smile to grace her lips. "Together, Jeanne. There are only the two of us left, after all."

"Only two," Jeanne agreed, her voice quiet. "Of all of our clan, only two remain. What will happen to the Umbran legacy after our deaths?"

"It's already gone," Bayonetta breathed in, a weight settling over her chest. "There's no returning to the past. That curtains have closed on that part of history."

Jeanne lowered her eyes, and leaned heavily on the headboard. "Yes," she agreed, wistfully. "There's no regaining what we've lost."

"On the topic of history," Bayonetta mused, eyes wandering to her friend's nice, angular shoulders, "You may want to get on top of that, don't you think?"

"Ten minutes," Jeanne waved a hand, and Bayonetta pulled her back to her side, a smug grin plastered on her face. "Just give me ten more minutes." Reaching out a hand to tuck in the few stray strands in Bayonetta's hair, Jeanne leaned in and pecked her cheek. She smelled of roses and light honey, a mellow scent that began to ease her into sleep. "You smell absolutely wonderful today," she remarked, closing her eyes to just take in the scent of Bayonetta's perfume. 

"As do you," Bayonetta replied, and settled them down underneath the covers. "But you always smell like heaven on Earth. Not Paradiso, mind..."

Jeanne tried not to giggle at the image of Fortitudo attempting to spray human perfume all over his grotesque body and failed miserably. "Flatterer."

"Now let's get some rest, before you pass out without saying goodbye," Bayonetta smiled into the bare skin of Jeanne's tucked arms. 

"Very funny," Jeanne mumbled, but the smile was infectious. "I'll see you in ten minutes."

"Have a good rest," Bayonetta chuckled. Jeanne's breath slowed in moments, her red lips slightly open, hair splayed all over the shared pillow. She was a mouth breather during sleep, occasionally. It didn't lessen her attractiveness, for sure, Bayonetta thought. She blinked sleepily, affected by Jeanne's words. She knew there would be more rifts in the future - probably another apocalyptic event that would tear them apart- but for now...for now, she could breath. For now, there could be rest, some broken peace, and it would all be by Jeanne's side. That's all that had ever mattered, in the end.

Her hands curled around pale skin, feather-light. She would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cliffhanger because there's nothing moving plot-wise atm.
> 
> I have been burning to write jeannetta for a while, now, even as I was converted to bayonetta during my star wars phase. I'm still screaming about both. For example, rey and bayonetta didn't know who their parents were and still destroy everything. such similarities in taste.
> 
> I NAMED THE FIC LEGACY BECAUSE IT HAS THE PHRASE 'LEG' IN IT. I'M SHAMELESS.


	2. Family

It was a sunny afternoon, at least for late October weather. Birds were singing, children playing, and many enjoyed the day outside in the light snow, on safe streets and busy Halloween cheer.

However, in a secluded, damp alleyway far hidden from sight, certain underhanded exchanges were occurring.

There was something tense in the room that day - a foreboding atmosphere that could only mean one thing. Rodin's gaze was fixed pointedly at the other side of the near-empty bar, and Enzo fidgeted in his seat, counting the coins in his wallet one by one. The old regulars that usually passed in and out of the Gates of Hell hadn't appeared for weeks on end; it was getting a bit lonely inside the warm, moderately-lit bar without Bayonetta or Jeanne popping in with new business to discuss.

Rodin's hands played at the row of shots he had set up along his counter, gaze still steadily fixed on the ticking grandfather's clock on the opposite end of the bar. There was a time and place for everything. Whatever was happening, he knew it couldn't be avoided.

"Enzo," he said, his bass voice echoing through the sparse air. The man in question startled, dropping a quarter onto the floor before cursing his bad luck.

"The fuck you want now? I told you, I'll pay the tab later - "

"How long has it been since you last saw Bayonetta?"

Enzo rubbed his chin, not overly fond of thinking about his witch client. He licked his lips, simultaneously interested and confused as to why Rodin would ask for her on his own without going to find her himself. "I'd say a good two weeks," Enzo responded, solemnly. "Give or take a few days. Haven't had a funeral for a while. Whatever's been on her tail for the past two decades seems to have chilled out after she apparently went and fuckin' offed _another_ god."

Rodin nodded, stirring another drink in case any new customers decided to waltz in during the slow hour. Not that that was going to happen. Enzo had been his only customer for the past few days, and he'd been taking all the shots he made. "Huh."

Waiting for a reason, Enzo absently plucked his dropped quarter off the floor and began to rub it clean with his worn trenchcoat. When Rodin remained silent, he looked up, peering up at the taller man over his sunglasses. "You need something from her or what?"

Shaking his head, Rodin downed the shot he'd just finished making, swallowing the bitter concoction. "Bah," he grunted, wiping his mouth with a spare hand. "Needs more vodka."

Enzo raised an eyebrow. "C'mon," he said, putting the quarter back in his snakeskin wallet. "You never tell me shit when it comes to them. Fill me in."

Rodin paused, as if deciding whether or not to give Enzo a middle finger or an actual explanation. He chose to go with an inconspicuous in-between. "I've got a job for them this time," he said, flatly. "Was going to tell 'em when I saw them next."

Enzo laughed. "Well, you aren't gonna see them any time soon," he told Rodin. "They got jobs at the local high school. Y'know, the one a little past the outskirts of the Dump? Dinky school, lots of rooms, probably has less combined money than what I make in a year."

"Huh. No wonder they haven't been stopping by."

"Yeah," Enzo said, taking a sip of his own beer, "Can't get intoxicated on the job or else you get the boot. Even bitches - I mean, uh, witches - got to make some side cash." He paused, wrinkling his nose. "Guessing the local platinum blonde bombshell drunk hasn't been stopping by because she doesn't like walking to school with a hangover, eh?"

Rodin grinned. "Could be true. Mind giving them a message from me when you got the time?"

Enzo turned in his seat to face Rodin, smiling. "Now we're talkin' business. This gonna throw me under the bus like last time? I ain't going to freeze my ass off in this weather while getting mobbed by invisible monsters anymore."

"Nope," Rodin said. "Just send them my way and you're fine. No prayin'. No planes. No shit."

Enzo nodded, looking rather pleased. "If you cut my tab today, I'll do it."

"Won't do much for your endless tab, but will do." Rodin waved a hand, Enzo's empty glass flying towards his open hand. Catching the dirty glassware, he put it under water, back now turned on the smaller Italian man. "Letter's in your pocket," he said, agreeably, with a much lighter tone.

Swearing, Enzo reached into his pockets, patting them down to make sure nothing personal had disappeared. Upon realizing there was a tiny purple flame flashing in his right coat pocket, he turned into a flurry of cursing and rolling, trying to rid himself of the potential life-ending flame.

"Relax, that's the message," Rodin shook his head, and snapped his fingers. The little lavender fire rose out of the pocket, still twirling brightly and emanating heat. "Won't burn you when you touch it. Give it to Bayonetta when you see her. _Not_ Jeanne," he added.

Enzo stood back up from his fallen position, angrily rubbing his stomach. "Fine, fine, holy shit," he muttered, obviously still in mild shock but recovering. "So why can't I just give it to Jeanne? She's easier to get a hold of."

"Ask any more questions and you're not getting your drinks free today," Rodin threatened, voice mild.

"God. Fine! Bayonetta, not Jeanne. Got it."

"Fuck this up and I'll have you roasting over a pit in the kitchens down under," Rodin told him, pulling a cigar out from his chest pocket and lighting it with his flaming thumb. He certainly made an intimidating figure, when cut in the right light. Which was most of the time.

Somehow, Enzo felt like Rodin wasn't kidding.

"Yeah," the plump Italian swallowed nervously. He packed his wallet, eyeing Rodin with newfound respect. (Or was it fear? It didn't make much of a difference, either way.) "They'll have it by the end of the day."

Rodin smiled.

 

\--

 

Stretching, Bayonetta handed a shopping bag to Jeanne, who was dressed in her regular red biker suit. "That should be it for the day," she told her, proudly examining the heels she had acquired just a few minutes earlier. The raven-haired witch canted her hips forward, lips pursed, but ultimately couldn't help giving off an air of complete satisfaction.

Jeanne made a face. "If only the sales were as good as _real_ holidays."

"Halloween is a perfectly acceptable holiday," Bayonetta responded with a mortified gasp. "The free candy is absolutely delightful."

"You're far too old to be trick or treating, Cereza." Jeanne ran a hand through her hair, fingers pressed against scalp. "I'll get the children to bring something back for you after school." Jeanne then offered her friend a sample lollipop she had snagged from the local sweets shop, to alleviate whatever grievances Bayonetta had acquired over Halloween age limits.

Bayonetta shrugged, but made an small o-shape with her mouth the moment she saw the gift. "Why thank you, Jeanne," she said, pleased. Plucking the candy from her friend's gloved fingers, she placed it in her mouth, smiling at the sweetness.

"Mm. New flavor. Pomegranate?"

"There was also cherry and strawberry, but I thought you'd prefer something less ordinary," Jeanne nodded.

"It's a shame Enzo couldn't make it to our little outing," Bayonetta said, beginning to wander back towards their car. "Do you think you could take these home, first? I'm thinking of doing some more window shopping before today's daily angel hunt."

"I'll expect you back by four," Jeanne said, taking the three heavy bags of clothes and various candies with more elegance than at a king's coronation. "Make sure you get the wine, Luka says he's visiting today."

"Oh? He called you?"

"Apparently he wants an interview, but he may just want to see you. It's been months, after all. I would say it warrants a celebration."

Bayonetta smiled. "Sweet boy."

"Indeed," Jeanne agreed, eyes flashing kindly. "I'll see you at..." she glanced at her cellphone, estimating their location. "Well. Wherever you plan on going afterwards. Give me a call, will you?"

"Of course," Bayonetta said, turning back to continue walking along the concrete sidewalk. "Is he coming for dinner?"

"Before, actually," Jeanne said. "At five."

"Well, that's four hours to spare. Don't get lonely waiting for me at home, dear."

Jeanne made another simultaneously disgusted yet mildly amused expression. "I would say the same," she laughed, a gentle smile on her brilliant features. She finally turned, satisfied with Bayonetta's promise to return home at a decent time, and disappeared among the crowd towards her motorcycle.

Bayonetta shrugged nonchalantly and calmly adjusted her glasses, eyes taking in the bustling scenery around her. "Now that that's settled," she mused, mostly to herself, "I should hurry before the midday sales end. Wouldn't dream of forgetting Luka's favorite!"

It took nearly five minutes just to find the right store with the right brand of wine; Luka may not be picky, but he at least had good taste, though for rather obscure things. After purchasing an expensive, non-diluted version of a particularly heavy wine she knew all three of them would enjoy, Bayonetta began her slow descent down the mall to the garage area. She _could_ have called a cab, but who needed one when you had a perfectly accessible car parked only a few floors below you?

She took her time afterwards, visiting shops that offered new deals on both cosmetic or food products. Spending her time mostly window-shopping, nearly four hours passed without incident.

While making her way around the mall for perhaps the fifth time, she heard a few muttered curses and the sound of thudding footsteps that belonged to only one person she knew. Without turning, Bayonetta sighed. "Enzo," she said.

Enzo paused, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You witches can practically teleport," he said, annoyed. "First I see you down by the market and then you're in the mall about five blocks away? Honestly, can't you make a man's life a little easier?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting you, for one." Bayonetta swiveled on one heel to face the mildly sweating man. "Wouldn't it have been easier just to call?"

Enzo shook his head vigorously. "Anyway, I got somethin' for you," he told her, reaching into his back pocket, taking out the fluttering purple flame. He winced at the sight, still uncomfortable with holding something so volatile. "Rodin said something about having a job for the two of you," he added, retracting his hand the moment Bayonetta lifted the flame to get a better look at it.

"Hm," she cocked her head to one side, lollipop slightly askew. She closed her hand around the fire, forcing it out of existence. Enzo glared at her.

"Hey, Rodin's gonna kill me if you don't read it, or whatever."

"Relax," she said, waving the same hand. "I'll read it when I have the time."

"As long as you do, I won't end up getting sacked," Enzo mumbled. "Just. Do whatever you gotta do, alright? I'm just the middleman. Don't go lookin' for me if you don't like what you see."

"Oh, my. Getting worried already?" Bayonetta peered down at the short, plump man with amusement, taking the lollipop out of her mouth. She licked her lips, savoring the taste a little longer. "You're the least of my worries, Enzo. Don't think too much on it."

The fat Italian spluttered, but looked relieved at the confirmation and wiped his brow. "I better get back to work," he said. "Gotta get the kids some new costumes for Halloween or else I'll never hear the end of it." He ambled off in the opposite direction, toward the children's clothes.

Once he was out of sight, Bayonetta re-lit the flame, watching it dance and flourish along her outstretched fingers. "Interesting," she thought aloud, moving it from one hand to another. "This is a memory, not a message..." Looking around the make sure no other person was nearby to see, she drew the Purgatorio signet in the air, taking one step through.

It was an old memory, she noted; one that carried an underlying strength of presence but appeared useless, otherwise. Opening it would require a great deal of energy she didn't currently have at her disposal - perhaps convening with Jeanne would give her better insight into the sealed memory. Why Rodin would give it to her during a time of peace was most peculiar.

Unless it meant that the peace wasn't meant to last, of course.

Smothering the flame once again, Bayonetta decided the take a detour route downstairs. Finding the nearest escalator, she dodged past other patrons and slid down the railing, hopping over people's hands and eventually jumped off to land at the lowest level. Thank goodness the escalators were so close to each other.

It took her a few more minutes to make her way to her car, surveying the area for any potential threats before re-drawing the signet and stepping back into the human world. She checked her watch, wincing at the time. "Technically I'm being punctual," she mumbled to herself, taking out her cellphone, bring Jeanne's number up in her contacts. "Five minutes late isn't _that_ big of a deal."

Jeanne's voice was muffled behind the other line. "Cereza," she said, and Bayonetta couldn't tell whether or not she sounded pleased, bored, or annoyed. Probably a combination of all three. "Where are you?"

"Enzo had a message," she started. "I do have everything, though. Including Luka's favorite treat."

Now she could tell Jeanne was interested. "You managed to find it? Luka mentioned he brought some sake back from Japan, as well."

"Then we'll have a little alcoholic party tonight," Bayonetta smiled, opening her car door. "I'll finish making the roast beef when I get home. Can you take out the spices? I left them underneath the counter."

"Ooh, will do," Jeanne said, and Bayonetta heard a few clinking noises in the background. "Sorry," Jeanne's voice returned after a moment of silence. "I have a few...visitors. You can get home soon, yes?"

"Of course. Have fun, Jeanne. Pick up a few halos for me."

Not bothering to listen to Jeanne's response, Bayonetta dropped the call put the phone back in her purse and stared at the wheel. "Funny," she mused quietly. "Angels picking on her at our own house? That's new."

She ignored the nagging voice in her head, started the car, and sped home.

 

\--

 

"Cereza."

Bayonetta's winning 'I'm home!' smile immediately died on her lips the moment she stepped through the door. Sitting on the couch were two children, one around ten and the other five, both looking immensely energetic. Luka, on the other hand, seemed holding a pleasant conversation with Jeanne, who had just looked up to see Bayonetta return home.

"Ah," Bayonetta said. She knew Jeanne could see right through her.

Jeanne smiled, a bit wickedly. Luka looked torn between grinning or fleeing, but stayed put. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, appearing slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you guys earlier," he started apologetically, still rubbing his neck. "But, uh..."

"Luka's fostering two children," Jeanne ended his statement, and continued smiling smugly. "However..."

"Okay, okay, you can stop." Luka put his free hand up in defeat. "Look. My apartment's not big enough to house them, but I want to. I can't really afford this at the moment and...well..."

"You mean you're asking _us_ to do it?" Bayonetta wasn't sure whether have expected it or be appalled.

"No! I mean, technically, yeah," Luka muttered. The two kids turned to look at him from over the couch, their eyes shining brightly.

The older one, a raven-haired Chinese girl with surprisingly sharp eyes, grinned cheekily. "Mr. Redgrave, is that her?"

The tinier one - a platinum blond boy that oddly reminded Bayonetta of her own father - sniffed cheerfully. "She's really pretty. Do you like her, mister?"

Luka put a hand on his face. "Yes, Gwyneth, that is her. Also yes, El, she is my _friend_."

Jeanne covered her mouth, trying to hide her mirth. "You can't hide it forever," she chided, causing Luka to further bury his face in his hands. "Even the children know and they've only been with you for two weeks."

Bayonetta shook her head, smiling, and placed the groceries on the table. "You know, Cheshire, you've never been good at hiding things."

The boy, El, puffed up his cheeks haughtily. "My name is _Eleazar_ ," he hooted, in such a childishly triumphant voice that Bayonetta couldn't help laughing at. He turned and blinked at her owlishly. "Don't call me El! My name's way cooler than that!"

"Fine, little one. Now, Cheshire," Bayonetta said, turning to face Luka with an air of complete openness, "Why the sudden urge to care for some random children?"

Luka bit his lip, but shrugged. "This is a special case, actually."

"I think she'll enjoy the whole story," Jeanne waved a lazy hand, beckoning them to sit down. Gwyneth took one look at the three of them altogether before ducking down, hushing the scuffling little boy beside her. Jeanne gestured to them. "Why don't you two go on into the kitchen? You can have some sweets there while we talk with your current foster parent."

Gwyneth smiled, a toothy, lopsided grin that was almost pitiful to look at. Bayonetta couldn't tell if the child was scared of being told off or abandoned. "Okay. Let's go, El. Mr. Redgrave has to talk to the nice ladies." For some reason, the younger one didn't protest at the usage of his nickname and chased after her, throwing a dubious glance back at the Umbra witches before disappearing behind the kitchen door.

Luka took a moment to compose himself, straightening his back at the table, legs crossed nervously. "Okay, so the two of them, for one, are pretty cute," he said, and Bayonetta leveled him with a half-lidded gaze that meant she wasn't impressed. He raised an eyebrow back in turn. "I just...let's start with them, then.

"Gwyneth Zacharias is the taller one. She's ten. Eleazar Callum's the kid that was giving me cheek. He's only five. Both of them lost their parents three years ago."

Bayonetta frowned. "Car crash? Disease?"

"A man-made disaster, actually," Luka answered uneasily. "You see, Gwyn lost her parents at birth. Dad had gotten in a plane crash and mom died during childbirth. So she got adopted, and that was that, for a while." He rubbed his hands together absentmindedly. "Her adopted family managed to have a kid together when she was five, and so that's when El popped out."

"El- _eazar!_ " a cry from the other room.

"Sorry, Eleazar. You two better not be in the bedroom! I said kitchen! Stay in the kitchen! Anyways," Luka continued, having both Bayonetta and Jeanne's attention, "They were born around here, but their parents were always working overseas. A few years ago, they'd gotten a contract in Vigrid, and kind of stayed there while these two were getting raised by a nanny."

"Irresponsible," Jeanne muttered, and Bayonetta inwardly agreed. She poured some of the wine by the countertop into a glass, taking a sip.

"I guess you could say that, but they had to raise a family somehow." Luka looked up at the ceiling. "Their contract was with the Ithavoll Group."

Bayonetta nearly choked on her drink, visibly restraining herself from coughing it out at the mention of Ithavoll. Jeanne glanced at her, arms crossed, but let out a breath in a hiss. Luka exhaled through his nose at the same time with them. "And that's how they lost their parents. They were there while you two were destroying Balder and that god - uh - Jubileus. Ended up missing, and...their bodies were never found. The mom was one of Balder's secretaries, and the dad worked on architecture, so it was kind of inevitable."

Jeanne looked at her hands. "In a way, we were partially responsible," she said, melancholy on her normally neutral features.

"Not that you two are all to blame! You saved the world, you know," Luka added in a rush, waving a hand frantically. "It's just that there'll always be casualties. You blow up one villain, and his followers get blown up too, either financially or physically." He smiled tightly. "It was also because El...well, he was younger than me when he had both his parents killed. Even if he didn't watch it happen, it's sad."

"So you want us to foster them," Bayonetta sighed, putting a hand on her cheek, looking at the tiled floor. "I can sympathize, Luka, but - "

"Just for a few days," Luka interrupted, smile even tighter than before. "I just need a few more day to figure out how to get everything back in shape, and then I can see if I don't need to put them back in foster care."

Bayonetta inhaled sharply. "Cheshire. You're losing your apartment?"

The man shook his head. "Not completely," he said, anxiously. "Kind of. This sort of journalism doesn't always pay, okay? I can work as many side jobs as I want, but this is New York. I'll have to find somewhere smaller, somewhere a bit cheaper, but that won't be too hard, I've done it before - "

"Luka!" Bayonetta put her foot down, leaning toward her jittery friend, who looked slightly mortified. "You've gone _this long_ without a proper apartment, and haven't told either of us? I've visited before. It was nearly empty and still barely fit the both of us."

Luka sighed, and leaned back. "It's not your problem, so of course I didn't want to bother you," he shuffled his feet together. "Just...please do me this one favor, alright? I'm desperate. I don't want them back in foster care any longer than they already have. It's shit there."

Jeanne had been silent for the majority of the conversation, staring at her bare feet. "Luka," she said, finally looking up at him with a spark of curiosity in her eyes, "would you be opposed to moving in with us?"

"I mean if it'll convince you to house them - wait, whoa, what?" Luka spluttered and put up his hands, blinking in confusion. "You're - you're not serious, right? You don't need to go this far - "

" _Luka_ ," Bayonetta intervened, emphasizing his name with vigor, "Look at me."

The man complied, a bit put off and more than just mildly surprised. He stared, trying to take in her meaning; but it was always those grey eyes that scared him. Mesmerized him. Blinded him. She was...a lot more than what he had expected. A lot more than what he had initially labeled her.

Bayonetta smiled, and for once, it completely reached her eyes. "You are very dear to the both of us," she said, trying her best not to lose her concentration or sound spurious, "and we've always been quite good friends, as you noticed. There's nothing wrong in asking us for help. We're here for you."

"Always have been," Jeanne agreed, and reached for Bayonetta's wine glass, taking a small sip. "Though the first year may have been a _little_ bit rocky, me being mind controlled and all that, but it's mended. Or I do hope you think so. I certainly do."

Luka swallowed. "I..."

 _We're family,_ she had meant. And he wanted to keep that close, take that one reassuring moment of adoration and kindness, and lock it inside his heart to bring up in the darkest of times.

He really did love her. Loved them both. But now wasn't the time.

"If you're willing," he said, meekly, breathing softly. Bayonetta shrugged, and took his hand under the table - a small gesture, but it went a long way.

"We always were. Haven't we, Cheshire?" she winked, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Pack your things," Jeanne said, pleasantly. "I want you here by tomorrow so we can set up rooms for the three of you. We can probably use all the empty rooms on the right wing of the penthouse - those have all been for storage. Might as well put them to use."

"We can take care of the papers later," Bayonetta added, nonchalantly. "It isn't a big deal, Cheshire. Stop looking like you're about to break down any moment now."

Indeed, Luka felt like he could barely see through his tears; they were small, miniscule watery things, but they clouded his vision anyways. He hadn't cried in years, but it didn't matter. Wiping the few tears with his glove (not his scarf - he wouldn't subject the only keepsake from his father to such treatment), Luka managed a weak grin. "Then...?"

Bayonetta and Jeanne looked each other fondly, before coming to a conclusion. "They can stay as long as you do," Bayonetta confirmed sweetly, and Jeanne's smug little smile returned.

"I'll - alright," Luka nodded. "Here, let me - lemme get them. Hey! Gwyn! El!"

What sounded like a chorus of voices responded. "Yes, mister?"

"You two can come out now. We're done talking business."

The duo of children crawled out of a cabinet and out the entrance, looking pleased with themselves. Eleazar had some brown sugar on his nose and there was smudges of grease on Gwyneth's hands. "The beef needed tending to," she explained solemnly, and Jeanne stifled her laughter while Bayonetta appeared momentarily horrified.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Luka shook his head affectionately. "She's a surprisingly good cook."

Gwyneth smiled at the statement. "It's a fact," she said, warmly. "I was basically living alone most of the time. Nan taught me a lot of stuff." Her face fell a little bit, however. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't touch people's things, but I thought I could help out."

Jeanne waved an elegant hand, patting Bayonetta on the back. "As Cheshire said, it doesn't matter," she replied, reassuring the girl and her brother.

Luka coughed to catch their attention again. "So," he said, "how do the two of you feel about living here?"

Eleazar gaped. "Wha?"

"You mean, like, _here_ here?" Gwyneth frowned. "It's very big and nice but I don't know if that's allowed, Mr. Redgrave."

"Well, hopefully by the end of these few months, you'll enjoy it," Luka stood up. "This is Ms. Arc and Ms. Butterfly. They'll be taking care of you with me from today onwards, apparently."

Bayonetta scoffed. "You'll be doing most of the work, Cheshire," she reminded him, but he shrugged it off.

"I know it doesn't feel like home," he continued, noting their crestfallen faces, "but we'll make sure it'll feel the closest as can be. I mean, how would you like three parents?"

Eleazar's grayish eyes lit up, delighted. "Nan was like a mom," he said, quickly. "And mom and dad were still mom and dad. We already know what it's like!"

"But at the same time?" Gwyneth sounded dubious. "More the merrier, I guess. I don't really care as long as we don't have to go back."

Luka clapped his hands, grinning ear to ear. The tears from earlier had somehow dried within the few minutes that had passed. (Bayonetta was at least ninety percent sure it was because he had experience dealing with these sort of emotional moments, as far in between as they were. Regardless of being a bit of a goof, he hid his intelligence well.)

"Let's get home and grab all your stuff, then," he told them, Eleazar wriggling happily while Gwyneth agreed without complaint. "We'll have tomorrow free, so you two have some packing to do."

"Aw, but it's Sunday," Eleazar bemoaned. "We're supposed to be able to sleep in and play!"

"You will be able to, once we move in, which won't take long," Luka ruffled the boy's neat platinum blond hair with obvious affection. "Let the adults deal with all the legal complications, alright? Don't overstress, Gwyn."

The girl in question pouted. "I do not overstress," she muttered, but ducked her head bashfully anyways and made it towards the door, Eleazar trailing behind with a cheerful grin plastered to his face.

Luka's eyes followed them to the door, watching them sit down to put on their boots. Jeanne leaned over in a lazily interested fashion. "Cute, aren't they?" she asked, clicking her tongue. "I wonder how Cereza will do."

"I can deal with children just fine," Bayonetta snarked, "though I have my doubts about you, Jeanne. Surely they'll enjoy my company more than yours, hair and all."

Jeanne looked immensely offended, covering her mouth with an open hand. "Again with the hair?!"

While the two continued bickering like an old married couple, Luka put his coat back on and placed his hat on Gwyn's head. The tall ten-year-old giggled, hands reaching up to curl her fingers around the rim of the worn hat. "Still a kid," Luka murmured softly. He cleared his throat. "Alright. See you two around! We're off."

Bayonetta and Jeanne stopped their argument momentarily to wave a solemn goodbye. "Bring _everything,_ Cheshire!" Bayonetta called. "That includes your little journals about the Trinities."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving them behind," he laughed. "That shit took forever to research - oh, no. Gwyn. No. You're not allowed to swear until twelve, okay? Swear responsibly." He paused, turned to stare at Eleazar, who was trying to make himself scarce. "That includes you double time, pal. Now get off. Go on. Shoo."

Watching the three amble out the door towards the elevator, Bayonetta felt a small, warm feeling stir in her chest. "Almost like a family, wouldn't you say?" she said, tenderly.

Jeanne cupped her fellow witch's face and pressed a gentle kiss into Bayonetta's cheek. "Oh, wake up, will you?" she chided, chuckling. "It's been like this for quite a while. You just don't like to acknowledge it until it hits you straight in the face."

Bayonetta smiled, and leaned into the touch, eyes closing. "Yes," she agreed gingerly, finally understanding the truth about the warmth blossoming from her chest to the rest of her body. "I suppose so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet y'all thought I was gonna make those gross kids from the previous chapter the adopted babies. I mean, there aren't any real babies in the story, but young kids count, right?
> 
> I puked out 4000+ words today, thanks, so that's why it feels a bit rushed. I might edit it when I've got the time.
> 
> I realized I really love Luka's character and I think Bayo lowkey loves him too. But then I realized - doesn't she already love Jeanne? All of the sudden, Omne came down and slapped me in the face with a rotting fish carcass, rage encasing their brilliant features. "There's a thing people call 'polyamory', dumbass," they said, and everything suddenly made a fuckton more sense.
> 
> So send your thanks to Omne for a three in one deal. They deserve each other. Jeanne and Luka are gonna hang out so much, Bayo's going to get jealous.


	3. Life is (Not) Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its finals week and ive lost control of my life, here's a super short filler chapter to fulfill the weekly agenda

Loneliness often got the better of her. It was a good thing that neither Bayonetta or Luka intended to make her life anything other than a (remarkably pleasant) living hell.

Tucked in between two incredibly warm bodies, Jeanne shifted slightly, mildly shocked to find the two children had decided to sleep on the floor that night. There was a _reason_ they'd unpacked in bedrooms - even if there hadn't been time to purchase bunk beds, Luka had brought over a kotatsu to use. Why didn't they just sleep there?

Upon hearing Luka's quiet snores beside her, oddly synchronized with El's breathing, Jeanne realized that maybe these kids were more attached to him than she had originally thought.

Bayonetta seemed to think the same, turning on her side to look Jeanne in the eye. "Not too surprising, is it? Cheshire is good with kids," she mused, a smile playing on her full lips. Sometimes it was hard to pay attention to the words that were coming out of her mouth; just watching the way she talked was enough to mesmerize Jeanne.

Luka remained blissfully unaware of their conversation, his face turned away from them and toward the opposite wall. He laid on his back, arms tucked in front of him, sleeping comfortably yet taking up very little space for a fully grown man. In the king sized bed, he looked almost small and calmly serene.

"He was certainly good with your child self," Jeanne commented, fluttering her eyelashes mockingly. Bayonetta laughed quietly, a positive sign.

"That is true," she said, then put a finger up to her lips. "But don't tell Cheshire I said that."

There was a near silent yawn from the floor, and up popped Eleazar's shockingly bright-haired head. He looked up at them with sleep-laden eyes, grumbling through his open-mouthed yawn. "'Morning," he sniffed, before standing to paw at the edge of the bed near Luka. "Sis, it's not warm enough."

Eleazar's weak protests must have been rather rare for the mornings, considering his sister shot her head up in confusion at the sound of his voice. Her expression changed from confused to relieved the moment she laid eyes on his half-hopping figure. "Don't wake Mr. Luka up," she warned, but came to assist him anyways.

Jeanne positioned herself so that she could see the both of them, leaning her head on one arm. Amusingly, they both seemed to be debating on how to climb up into the bed; it was obvious both of them had been perfectly comfortable on the heated floor, having stolen cushions off the couches, but companionship won over fear of the two witches.

"Good morning," Bayonetta muttered from behind Jeanne, causing both children to startle. They glanced at her with wide, gray eyes, El placing a hesitant hand on Gwyneth's sweater. Gwyneth shrugged it off, and looked abashed.

"Sorry," she apologized for no particular reason. "Should we just - "

"There was a kotatsu you could've used," Jeanne raised an eyebrow, "but I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

Gwyneth shook her head vigorously, red coloring her cheeks. "I think - I think I'll pass this time, thank you. You can go in, El."

Eleazar wiggled under the two witches' gazes, but at the word of his adopted sister, began to ascent up the side of the tall bed. Gwyn didn't look like she was going to help out anytime soon - maybe because Eleazar got fussy whenever others tried to assist him during one of his personal challenges.

Finally, the tiny five-year-old managed to get a hold of Luka's shirt, tugging it for support while he clambered onto the small space between Luka and the edge of the bed. Bayonetta snorted, trying to cover up her laughter, as the boy snuggled in between an oblivious Luka's arm.

"I'm assuming he does this often," Jeanne said, gauging Gwyneth's reaction. When the girl simply shrugged, Jeanne pressed on. "There's still space, you know."

Gwyn's face colored even more, and she reached up a hand to scratch at her neck anxiously. "I think I'm a bit old for that," she ducked her head sheepishly. "El likes the attention. I'll head back to the kotatsu for now. Thanks for the offer, Ms. Arc."

"You're welcome," Bayonetta called as the girl slipped out of the master bedroom. Gwyn turned a little, watching Bayonetta with curious eyes, before resuming her trot down to the other end of the hall and away from sight.

Jeanne sighed. "Do you think she'll get used to us by the end of the month?"

Bayonetta smiled wickedly. "Well, she seems to know the rules of the house already. No children in _this_ bed, mind you."

"Are you saying we're going to have to kick the little one out so soon?" Jeanne gave her best attempt at puppy eyes. Eleazar was, indeed, cute, and she didn't want him to throw a tantrum on the seventh day he'd been staying with them.

Bayonetta paused to reconsider, seemingly leaning on the 'let's kick him out' side, but after glancing at Jeanne's sad face, relented. "I know you're doing this on purpose," she grumbled, but settled back down into bed anyways.

"That's my girl," Jeanne joked, and craned her neck to see how the boy was faring. El was already asleep, steady breaths once again in tandem with Luka's gentle snores.

"I have a feeling this one's already quite pleased with the new arrangement," Jeanne noted, and Bayonetta agreed silently.

"As long as he stays on that side, I'm completely fine," Bayonetta commented, eliciting a laugh from Jeanne. She reached out and bumped noses with her friend, the two of them completely comfortable in bed.

"I suppose that settles it, then." Jeanne smiled. Bayonetta wound her fingers through Jeanne's long hair, bringing her face into Jeanne's exposed neck.

"Yes, it does," Bayonetta whispered, and they laid there, watching the stars dance in each other's eyes. Watched as their faces came together and touched, ever so briefly, a step beyond chaste but before love; straddling the point between friends and lovers.

If only they could stay like this forever - Bayonetta's thoughts lingered on that single statement, clutching tightly at the wavering warmth in her chest. Jeanne, in turn, stopped chasing after the dream of being something more and accepted the love she already had.

Luka shifted in his sleep, placing one muscular arm on Jeanne's shoulder. Bayonetta grinned at the sight, and Jeanne leaned into Luka's side, laughing as the man jolted awake. He comically glanced at her, then at the boy nuzzled between his arm and waist.

"Well," Luka laughed breathlessly, "I didn't expect waking up to _that_."

Bayonetta agreed from over Jeanne's shoulder. "None of us did, Cheshire. Though I think we should start expecting the little one to climb into bed with you more often."

"Switch places?" Jeanne asked, lightly touching Bayonetta's arm to get her attention. The raven-haired witch smiled slyly, and flipped over Jeanne, landing on top of her. She pointedly leaned into Luka, getting a little close for comfort as Jeanne struggled underneath her weight.

"Get _off_ , you weasel!" she coughed out, managing to roll her upper torso out of the way but leaving her arm underneath Bayonetta's bum. "This is high treason!"

"I am a panther, if you must be so specific," Bayonetta purred, latching onto Jeanne's arm as she continued to tease Luka, who was growing redder by the second. "Though a weasel would definitely fit our Cheshire much better than a simple housecat..."

Luka made a noise that was half-human and half-cat, this sort of throaty, slightly exasperated whine that nearly made Bayonetta choke on her own laughter.

"Go back to sleep, Cereza," Jeanne hissed, finally succeeding in shoving Bayonetta off her form and onto the space in between her and Luka. "I swear, you're going to regret this by nightfall."

"Oh?" Bayonetta blinked waspishly at her best friend. "Pray tell me how you're going to outsmart _this._ " She gestured to her body, then kicked out a naked leg toward Luka, who looked as if he was about to faint.

"Using your legs won't help if you're being restrained," Jeanne said, whipping her hair into Bayonetta's unwary face. The woman spat out the stray strands of platinum blonde hair, forcing her to use her hands and get the rest out of her face. Luka, on the other hand, seemed to thoroughly enjoy watching Bayonetta get trounced by her fellow witch's wild hairdo.

"Going to use your hair, then? Kinky," Bayonetta grumbled, and Luka thrust his face into his hands, unable to control his mirth. Jeanne, however, was not particularly pleased; she grabbed Bayonetta's butt and squeezed a bit forcefully.

In response, Bayonetta gave her an almost offended look. Well, as long as she didn't kick her in the face like the last time she copped a feel, Jeanne was fine with a mild reaction.

"As you can see," Jeanne said, still gauging Bayonetta's reaction to the hand on her behind, "your lower body won't be very hard to restrain. Your ass is as flat as my chest...if not more so."

Silence.

Luke was now face-down on his pillow, shaking uncontrollably, and El was blinking back into consciousness from underneath his foster father's arm. The little boy glanced up from his downed position and noticed the shocked, unbelievable, absolute _horror_ on Bayonetta's normally playful face.

"'The devil always gets his due'," Luka quoted, voice muffled from the pillow his face was buried in. He was still losing his shit. "God, Jeanne, you killed the demon, but at what cost? At what cost, Jeanne? _At what cost?_ "

"The first step toward acceptance is denial," Jeanne smiled serenely, as Bayonetta continued to look so horrifically mortified that Jeanne almost felt a twinge pity for her. Almost. But not really.

Revenge never tasted so sweet.

In a few seconds, Gwyneth would be waking up to the musical yowls of two battling Umbra witches accompanied by the frenzied laughter of her journalist father and confused little brother.

Yeah, life was good.

(Not really.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to umbranheart.tumblr.com for talking 2 me about balder and rosa, which is going to be later in the plot (like...maybe...ten or more chapters later lmao). wasn't gonna post anything this week (fuck finals) but it gave me inspiration anyway. lov u.


	4. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of the end of finals week / the semester + Bayonetta's release in sm4sh being only days away, there's a two chapter update this week! :D Enjoy!

Bayonetta hated children.

Jeanne, on the other hand, could have cared less.

The little platinum blond evildoer climbed gamely onto his highchair, reaching eagerly for one of the lollipops sitting upon the very top of the counter. His sister sat in a chair in the opposite side of the room, eyes dutifully glued to her arithmetic homework, scribbling incessantly in her neat notebook.

Gwyn's eyes traced her most recent problem, brows furrowed in fierce concentration as she gnawed at the end of her pencil. Tapping a foot impatiently onto the tiled floor, she made a tiny noise of frustration just as her brother managed to snatch a bright red, rose-shaped candy, his dinky legs dangling off the counter. Jeanne smiled, and helped the child out of his rather unhappy predicament.

Eleazar sneezed, putting the lollipop into his mouth. He made a small peeping noise, smiling widely at Bayonetta with familiar dull grey eyes.

"Missus," he said, biting down on the stick of the rose lollipop, "Tomorrow's Halloween!"

Bayonetta sighed. "I know, little one. Cheshire will take the both of you trick-or-treating."

El wriggled gently in Jeanne's grasp, and the witch placed his small feet back on the floor. Running up to his second foster mother, Eleazar reached up eagerly, face framed with excitement.

"But Mr. Redgrave has work," he told her, seriously. Jeanne could see Bayonetta's face fall from her side of the room, and they both exchanged grim glances.

"He shouldn't have work on Saturdays," Bayonetta hissed, quietly.

"Mr. Redgrave has an interview that day," Gwyn said, looking up from her work. She shuffled through her backpack and pulled out another notebook, this time simply labeled 'schedules'. She flipped through a few pages before settling on one that looked particularly messy. "He changed the timetables, but it says October 31 has a meeting from seven till noon, then he's rushing downtown for a news reel. He'll be at the broadcasting station from three until eleven thirty, so I guess we're all out of luck."

Jeanne paused. "...And he didn't tell us this _because_...?"

Gwyn shrugged. "He changed it yesterday," was all she could say. The girl looked a little sympathetic. "We don't have to go," she blinked, and El made a tiny whale noise to broadcast his displeasure.

"Nonsense," Bayonetta stood from her chair, crossing her arms. Jeanne raised an eyebrow, but held her tongue. "I am not missing an opportunity for free candy," she asserted, and it was Gwyn's turn to stare.

"I guess you don't need a costume," Gwyn turned back to her homework and began packing her pencils. "El's might need a little tweaking, but I think we're alright."

"Luka said the boy made it himself," Jeanne said, stretching out on the couch behind Bayonetta's standing figure. "What's he going as?"

"A peacock," Gwyn shrugged.

Eleazar took this opportunity to jump up on Bayonetta's leg, causing the witch to take one step back. The boy fell over face first, imbalanced by the quick action.

Bayonetta stiffened. "If he starts crying - "

El popped his head up immediately afterwards, grey eyes still shining brightly. He waved a familiar-looking silver feather in her face. "I got this from daddy!" he told her, proudly. He tucked the feather behind his ear, and grinned his signature toothy smile.

"We still need to cut out the paper beak, El," Gwyn reminded him.

"Aw, shucks," El muttered, but grabbed Bayonetta's leg, much to her dismay. "You'll come with us, right, missus? You're so pretty! The costume would be really cool!"

Jeanne smirked at Bayonetta, who seemed to be contemplating whether or not to jump out the window or concede to the unrelenting child. Her motherly nature getting the better of her, she sighed and patted his head. "Yes, I'll come," she told him, trying to stay sweet.

Gwyn stared at her oddly. "I'll give you all my candy," she said, negotiating.

Bayonetta's eyes lit up. "Well, you certainly know the way to a lady's heart," she said, smugly. "It's a deal."

The ten-year-old girl looked at Jeanne with half-lidded, smug eyes, as if she was staring into the camera during an episode of the Office. Jeanne choked on her tea, forcing herself to swallow the remainder of the scalding liquid and setting the hot cup back on the countertop, face heated both from embarrassment and suppressed laughter.

"C'mon, El, let's finish your costume," Gwyn said, hopping off her chair. Eleazar saluted awkwardly, a hand on his chest and another at his forehead. "Wrong hand, dummy," Gwyn scolded, and El toddled after her as they went into their room to complete his hidden peacock costume.

Bayonetta and Jeanne exchanged dubious glances.

"Should we help them?" Jeanne asked, lips pursed.

Bayonetta thought about it for a moment, but shook her head. "Nah," she shrugged, and went back to reading the daily newspaper as if nothing had happened.

 

\--

 

Dressed in a fluffy, unbelievably adorable suit, El ran forward with his pumpkin bag, ready for treats. Bayonetta and Jeanne strolled behind him, having a pleasant conversation with Gwyneth.

"Your brother's costume is absolutely delightful," Jeanne commented, and Gwyn nodded solemnly.

"You stitched it for him?" Bayonetta asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gwyneth nodded again, this time peering at her foster mother from underneath her white hood. "It took a while," she admitted, glancing at her cheerful brother, "but it's always worth it in the end."

Bayonetta snorted. "And you couldn't spend much time on your own costume, it seems." She gestured to the plain white sweater, white jeans, fake plastic halo, thrift shop feather wings, and the weirdly put together scythe that looked like it went through a laundromat.

"I'm an angel," Gwyneth grinned, good-naturedly.

"A very peculiar angel," Bayonetta agreed, and Jeanne nudged her in the side.

"Very similar to the ones we've seen," Jeanne added jokingly, and Gwyneth laughed, pulling up her hood.

"Though the scythe must be new," Gwyn smiled, raising the foam scythe above her head. Framed in the dim street light, she looked eerily close to a whitish form of Hideous.

They continued along in companionable silence, occasionally letting Gwyn and El race up the steps to a house in order to complete their candy-gathering task. A jovial chorus of 'trick or treat!' could be heard around town for miles around; all the schoolchildren had been waiting for this day, especially near the Dump. Free candy was technically free food, and no one was going to miss out on that.

It took nearly four hours before the kids were satisfied with their hoard of candy; El had managed to procure two bags stuffed to the brim, while Gwyn shrugged it off with one bagful of candy. The two pooled their findings together, agreeing on the amounts to be distributed. The two witches listened closely to the two as they negotiated circumstances.

"We should save half for the adults," Gwyn said, peering into the candy pile with a face filled with wonder.

"A quarter," El protested.

"Fine. A third, then. No ifs or buts."

"No, a quarter."

"You can't eat this much candy. I promised to give Ms. Butterfly my share, and that's a third. The adults get a third, okay? Remember, we need to keep our promises."

El huffed in exasperation, but ceased complaining gracefully. "I'll give you half of mine," he said, shoving one of his bags toward Gwyn. "Since you're giving yours to Ms. Butterfly."

"Thanks, El." Gwyn leaned forward and pecked her brother on the cheek, earning her a giggle. "C'mon, let's hurry back so Ms. Arc and Butterfly don't get impatient."

Holding El's hand, Gwyn walked back toward the two waiting witches, Jeanne giving her one approving nod before they began their trip back home. Bayonetta leaned into Jeanne's side, smirking playfully.

"Did you hear that? One third," she said, face twisting into a coy grin.

"Stealing candy from a baby," Jeanne sighed, and Bayonetta huffed beside her.

"We bargained for it," Bayonetta reasoned. "Thus it was a deal made on equal ends."

"If you forget about the power dynamic between adult and child, then it could technically have been on equal footing," Jeanne put a hand to Bayonetta's face and gave it a gentle push. Bayonetta puffed out her cheeks, thankful that it was still dark.

Something screeched in the distance. Bayonetta paused mid-step, Jeanne's eyes narrowing in apprehension.

"Sounds awfully like an Affinity, doesn't it?" Bayonetta said, leaning forward.

"Children," Jeanne called out behind her, seeing the two kids pause at her voice. "Stay put for a moment. We have some business we have to finish. We'll be right back!"

"Okay, Ms. Arc," Gwyn obediently dragged a confused El to a streetlight, both of them standing by the post. They gave each other quizzical looks before casting a curious glance in the witches' direction.

Bayonetta and Jeanne had both sprung through into Purgatorio, pulling handguns out of their hair and leaping from roof to roof. The Affinities descended from the sky, a cacophony of quips and screeches mimicking human speech. They pointed their spears outwards, two of them holding sousaphones.

"Let's get this over with," Bayonetta sighed, and launched herself toward the first unwary Affinity.

The fight was an absolute disaster for the angels, if it could have even counted as one. Without any angels from higher circles of Paradiso, the Affinities were no match for the combined attacks of two experienced witches.

Jeanne smashed an incoming angel with her heel, watching it spiral downwards and explode into a mass of flesh and blood on the concrete sidewalk. Bayonetta caught on by the leg and threw it at Jeanne, who dodged nimbly, kicking the Affinity back at her fellow witch. They began a slow game of catch, the poor Affinity caught in between as the ball of their game.

The other Affinities hurled themselves at the witches, attempting to overwhelm them by sheer numbers. It may have worked on an unsuspecting Bayonetta perhaps two decades ago, but the witch simply kicked the Affinity they were playing with away and jumped upwards. The angels followed dutifully, spears waving frantically in the air.

Bayonetta paused mid-air in tandem with Jeanne, who whipped her long hair to the side in boredom. "Shall we end it, then?" Bayonetta asked, raising her voice in an amused manner.

"Of course. The kids are waiting," Jeanne answered sweetly, folding her arms.

Both descended upon the swarm of Affinities in a spiraling downward arc, spraying them with gunfire and a tornado of classic kicks and face-crushing stomps. They had even decided to synchronize their moves, dancing together in a mockingly beautiful way that further angered the remaining Affinities, who were thrown onto the ground.

"It was fun while it lasted," Bayonetta cooed, and shot the final Affinity in the face. It withered away underneath her foot, disappearing into a soft light, leaving behind a halo and some fading blood. Bayonetta picked up the halo, gesturing to the newly made graveyard of angels.

"It's not much, but enough for one trip to the bar, hm?" Bayonetta said.

"Perhaps during break," Jeanne conceded. "Winter break, that is. I'm not stepping foot in there until I know I can get absolutely wasted without consequence."

Bayonetta tutted. "Fine. I'll tell Rodin we won't be able to make it until December, then."

"Please do."

The two witches glanced at themselves, inspecting their clothes and ridding themselves of any dirt or grime left on their bodies. After a full makeover in Purgatorio (which took a few sparse minutes), they stepped out on the corner away from Gwyn and El, acting as if they had only went to speak on the phone for some time.

"I hope we didn't take too long," Jeanne fake-fretted, and Bayonetta shook her head.

"Didn't run into any trouble, did you two?"

Gwyn gave her foster parents a hard stare. "No," she said, briskly. "Let's go home."

"We can show daddy our candy stash," El declared, and Gwyn hushed him quietly.

"...Daddy?" Both Jeanne and Bayonetta looked perplexed.

"Mr. Redgrave," Gwyneth corrected. "Let's go, okay, El?"

"Yep," El agreed, and tugged on Bayonetta's leg again. "You're so pretty," he repeated his earlier compliment, but it was definitely genuine, going by the kind gleam in his eyes. "So _cool_. I wanna be like you someday."

Jeanne smiled warmly as she watched Bayonetta flush, hiding her pleasure beneath a layer of haughtiness. "Of course," Bayonetta laughed, waving a lazy hand, " _Everyone_ does, little one. We'll see what we can do for you. Now let's get on home."

The four of them continued their way back to the penthouse, unaware of the twitching remains of an Affinity slowly melting into the ground, consumed by an unknown blackness.

_This world shall be ours to roam once more._


	5. Time and Time Again

Jeanne could feel a gentle heartbeat slow against her chest, small puffs of breath escaping Bayonetta's sparsely open lips. The sleepy, black-haired witch shifted against her Umbran sister's side, and Jeanne's own heart fluttered momentarily in a leaping pitter-patter rhythm.

It was an airy midnight, filled with the echoes of nightmares on her cheeks; she remembered the feeling of hot breath enveloping the back of her neck, the whimpers of a man that sounded too young for the burden he had worn - so many horrible voices chanting despair, like ages past. If it was not for Bayonetta's snug grip on her arm, Jeanne may have chosen to take a quick breather to rid herself of the impending sense of doom. But Bayonetta was here, alive, and well. There was nothing to fear but mere nightmares that plagued her mind at the crest of night.

Sometimes, it worried her. Jeanne wasn't the type to overreact, and she knew how to handle herself just fine without any additional help. That was her way of living: independent, free, knowledgeable. That was how her mother had taught her to be all those years ago, and old habits die hard - Jeanne would never forget the ways of the Umbra, even in death.

But now that her role as heiress was no longer of immediate importance, she felt a little empty, like a lost puppy trying to make its way back to a devastated home. It had been this way for a long, long time, possibly stretching from the end of the Witch Hunts to modern day; Jeanne couldn't tell, and didn't try to care. It was not well to dwell on the past when current times were trying to kill you.

Bayonetta's breaths came out in short adorable huffs, and she kicked out lazily in her sleep, foot digging into Jeanne's exposed waist. The older witch gave her sleeping friend a wicked stink-eye that would have cowed the strongest of angels, but Bayonetta could give less of a fuck. Even if she had been awake, the Umbra witch probably would have laughed in her face and rubbed her cheeks with those infuriatingly dexterous fingers of hers.

The grip on her arm tightened, Bayonetta's brows furrowing in sudden concentration (or was it trepidation?). Jeanne instinctively yanked her arm out of the grasp, an action bred out of necessity during her time as the last conscious witch. Bayonetta blinked open one grey eye, yawning for the whole world to see.

"Goooood morning," the raven-haired witch smacked her lips together in a very unladylike fashion, frowning through half-lidded eyes. "Hm? It's half past twelve..."

"Go back to sleep," Jeanne sighed, running a hand through Bayonetta's ruffled hair. "I was just trying to get some blood flow back to my arm."

Bayonetta nodded, too tired to investigate further. "I thought it was the kid again," she muttered, rolling onto her back. "Why can't they go sleep with Luka, now that he's got a separate room?"

"The little one adores you," Jeanne shook her head good-naturedly, and propped her head up on her pillow. "You should be glad. He's a sweet one."

"I'd rather take the other one," Bayonetta grumbled, turning face-down into her pillow, voice muffled. "Mild, does what's she's told, generally stays out of the way."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, maybe," she coughed, and Bayonetta shot out a hand to hit her in the thigh. Jeanne, in return, playfully punched her shoulder. The two simultaneously stuck their feet out at each other, tangling the blankets in a surprisingly violent game of foot-war half past midnight.

It ended up with Jeanne on top, both hands grabbing Bayonetta's tanktop straps, and Bayonetta's foot glued to her right boob. Jeanne raised a suggestive eyebrow, causing her friend to snort derisively under her.

"You're touching my boob," Jeanne grinned, tugging at the black straps.

"I am touching your _heart_ , not your boob," Bayonetta enunciated, sticking out her tongue slightly and wriggling it.

"My right boob?"

Bayonetta briefly considered headbutting Jeanne, but decided not to after getting a clearly murderous glare from her friend. "Not everyone gets to feel my feet, even with such small surface area," she said, smiling widely.

Jeanne let out a fake, shocked gasp and released her grasp on the tanktop straps, causing them to hurtle down and deliver a loud _smack!_ to Bayonetta's bare shoulders. The aforementioned woman winced at the traitorous gesture, but did not remove her foot from Jeanne's (admittedly under average proportioned) breast.

"Okay, El, you're right. This is pretty wild."

Both witches turned to meet the somewhat perplexed gazes of their two newest residents, Eleazar and Gwyneth. The lanky girl met their stares and shrugged nonchalantly, turning to crawl back toward her room at the opposite end of the hallway, away from the bedroom door. El, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to stay and watch the show unfold, finally letting out a quiet, mischievous giggle.

Bayonetta let out a tired sigh. "Little one."

El's face immediately brightened. "Yes, mummy?"

Jeanne half-choked on her own spit, trying her best not to break out laughing and wake Luka up in the process. "Mummy? It's been barely over two months..."

"What can I say? He imprints quickly," Bayonetta exhaled, but tucked her offending foot away from Jeanne's boob and allowed the other woman to get back into a comfortable position in bed. "Is there something you needed, little one?"

The platinum blond boy's face fell at the question. He looked down solemnly, as if ashamed. "Gwyn woke me up," he explained, rubbing his hands together.

Jeanne rose an eyebrow. "Your sister seems to have returned to bed. You should do the same, it's getting far too late."

El shook his head, patting his cheek with a chubby hand. "Gwyn said she heard something go crash outside," he continued. "So she woke me up and we didn't find anything other than some white stuff, but we can't find Mr. Redgrave, either."

This gave Bayonetta pause; she narrowed her eyes into slits, slowly reaching for her glasses on the nightstand beside the bed. She seemed tenser than usual; perhaps Paradiso's silence had just been a ruse to lure her into a sense of peace, and Luka had simply got caught in between another squabble. Jeanne glanced at the shivering little boy, who looked mildly intimidated by Bayonetta's sudden change in demeanor. He gripped his stuffed rabbit tightly, grey eyes wide.

"If you're looking for Mr. Luka, he's probably sitting in a trash can," Gwyn's voice from the end of the hallway drawled. El pouted in response.

"Mr. Redgrave only did that once! You take that back!"

"Now, now," Jeanne said, trying to alleviate the situation, silver eyes meeting Bayonetta's cautious grey ones. "That isn't a way to talk about your father, Gwyneth."

"He's not really my dad," Gwyn called from her room, a loud shuffling indicating that she was shifting positions in bed. "I mean, they're both dead!"

Jeanne gave Bayonetta a despairing look as El's lower lip began to quiver. Bayonetta put a hand to her face, smoothing out her shirt with her other free hand. "I'm sorry," she muttered to Jeanne. "I thought she wasn't so much of a little shit."

"You just haven't been around to deal with one of her mood swings," Jeanne shook her head affectionately. She took a contemplative glance at the open door of Gwyn and El's shared room. "Young lady - "

"I didn't mean that in a bad way," Gwyn called again, slightly lighter, obviously just realizing the implications of her words. "I mean that I don't want him dead, too, you know? I mean, both sets of my parents are dead within a decade, and if that doesn't scream 'bad luck' then I don't know what does!"

Bayonetta stared. "I'm going to look for Luka," she said. "I have a feeling he's prowling about for new stories and just hasn't told us about his schedule."

"I'd come with you," Jeanne sighed, a little put out, "But there are two children at home that aren't above the age of thirteen yet."

Bayonetta nodded, and took a cursory glance at El's stiff upper lip. He was holding back the tears pretty well for a five year old. She bent down and ruffled his hair kindly, watching the boy's eyes light up in response. "Remember, little one," she whispered, bending a knee to get down to his level. "There's two things in this world I can't stand: cockroaches and crying babies. You're not a crybaby, are you?"

El shook his head quickly, swallowing back any tears that were left. "No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!" Gwyn scoffed, loudly.

It was Jeanne's turn to shove her face into her hands. Bayonetta pretended not to hear the girl's words, and continued patting El's head. "Don't mind your sister," she told him, not unkindly. El nodded furiously, hands clutching his white nightgown, the stuffed rabbit sitting quietly by his side.

"I'm about three seconds from kicking her ass," Bayonetta muttered out of the corner of her mouth. Jeanne stifled a laugh.

"Please don't," she sighed between her fingers. "Foster kids tend to get like that after a certain amount of time. It just...takes time to wear off."

"She used to be perfectly fine by herself," Bayonetta said, rising from her crouched position after giving El another headrub. Jeanne eyed the sight speculatively, accepting the fact that Bayonetta really did like children. The boy stuck a thumb in his mouth and chewed silently - a childish habit, but it helped soothe him, at least.

"The golden period ends at about four months," Jeanne shrugged. "Ours was just a bit earlier. You should hurry, Cereza. If Luka's in any real danger..."

Bayonetta agreed silently, making a noncommittal gesture with her hand. She reached into the drawer besides her, taking out two cheap handguns. She nodded once to her fellow witch and stuck them in her hair before waltzing toward the penthouse exit, remembering that she wasn't supposed to use her powers willy-nilly while the children were around.

Jeanne watched her go, then turned her attention to Eleazar, who was still standing stock-still, holding back tears. She smiled softly, and the little boy averted his gaze away from her, embarrassed. "Eleazar," she said, and bent down. The boy began edging towards the door, ears blazing.

"If you want to sleep here tonight, it's fine. Your 'mummy' should be back any moment now." Jeanne reached out a hand, and El paused, finally getting the courage to look at her directly. He timidly stuck a tiny hand in hers, and she pulled him into her arms, letting the boy squeal delightedly into her grasp.

Gwyn peered in from around the door, cheeks a similar shade of red. "El, go back to sleep," she said, fussily, and the boy stuck his tongue out at her cheekily.

"You're not my mom," he sneezed into his sentence, but got his message across anyways.

"...Good point," Gwyn conceded. "But - "

"He can stay here for the night," Jeanne said, before Gwyn could say any more. Gwyneth, in turn, gave her a somewhat dubious look.

"Again?" she asked.

"Well," Jeanne sighed, lifting the boy higher, "Cereza's certainly grown attached. It isn't too much of a bother, honestly."

Gwyn's cheeks grew redder. "O-oh, okay." She fidgeted for a moment before awkwardly taking a few steps toward her room again.

Jeanne had a feeling she was embarrassed for a good reason.

"You can, too," Jeanne half-smiled, smugly. Gwyn made a sound that was between a groan and a sigh. Jeanne raised an eyebrow. "I mean it."

The lanky girl retraced her steps back into the bedroom, mumbling under her breath. She stood in place, back turned to her second foster mother. "I'm sorry," she started, as if she'd just finished reciting her apology to herself and deemed it satisfactory.

"It's...fine," Jeanne said, torn between scolding the girl or letting her off this time. "It gets a bit lonely there, doesn't it? You know you don't have to be modest about everything."

Gwyn sniffed. "Ms. Cereza is really intimidating," she admitted, crossing her arms behind her back and turning around, staring at the ground. "I mean, it's like a dream."

Jeanne broke out into a smile, El wriggling delightedly in her arms. "A dream? I hope you think it's a good one."

Gwyn's tomato-colored blush grew even larger, a feat that Jeanne hadn't thought was possible. "I just - we were in - I mean, the foster home was terrible for three years and then suddenly - ! Suddenly we're here and you're both too nice and rich and just too _pretty_ ," she huffed, a barrage of words, and immediately regretted her statement.

El was practically bouncing in Jeanne's arms in excitement. "See! I knew it! You just didn't wanna admit I was right!"

"I thought it before you talked about it, El. Stop trying to act cool."

El laughed. "I don't need to act cool," he said, smugly. "I already _am_ cool."

If a shining pair of sunglasses had descended upon the boy at that very moment, Jeanne wouldn't have been surprised.

Gwyneth, on the other hand, looked mutinous.

"Alright, children, off to bed." Jeanne plopped the giggling blond onto the bed, and moved over so Gwyneth could also crawl in. Gwyn immediately went to clutch to her back, and El attached himself to Jeanne's front, creating a disproportionate sandwich. As she pulled the covers over all three of them, for once, Jeanne didn't mind the presence of two cuddling children pressed up against her.

She paused, realizing something. "...Is this why you didn't want either of us to touch you since day one? Because we were...too...er, pretty?"

Gwyneth made a horrified strangled noise that sounded like a cross between a dying cheetah and a starving hyena against her back. That was probably enough of an answer in itself.

Well, that was one hell of a start to a day.

 

\--

 

Bayonetta smashed an unsuspecting Affinity in the face with her heel, causing it so slam into another three grouped together beneath her. The creatures screamed gratingly against their new foe, the rest taking up arms around their fallen brethren. Luka scrambled out of the way, barely dodging a few swipes from the many Affinities' spears.

"My, my," Bayonetta tutted, adjusting her glasses. "Raising hell again, aren't we?"

Luka ducked behind a conveniently placed trash can, griphook in hand. He gave Bayonetta a solemn thumbs up, grinning widely. "Knew I could count on you to save my ass!"

"Hush, Cheshire." The Umbra witch took two steps forward, watching as more residents of Paradiso amassed in the church courtyard around her. "This is a holy place, and I'll see to it that none of you disturb it."

"Yeah, right." Luka rolled his eyes, but kept under cover. He leaned over the trash can, camera in hand, and snapped a few candid pictures.

Reaching for her handguns, Bayonetta winked at the newly-arrived Beloved, who was making awfully loud growling noises. A typical day in the life of a witch, though a bit early for her taste. Waiting for the things to make the first move, Bayonetta swung a leg around in an arc, lazily examining her neatly patterned pajamas. "Get on with it, will you? I've a schedule to keep that involves raising some very distraught children into respectable young adults," she complained.

The Affinities were the first to charge. They held their spears out, dashing to and fro around her in spiraling arcs. She watched them out of the corner of her eye, marking one that descended from above with a sousaphone in hand; in a single fluid movement, Bayonetta leaped into the air and landed expertly on the head of the sousaphone, tipping the instrument forwards. The blast of light resounded across the courtyard and crushed the Affinities sprawled underneath it, blood splattering onto ancient stone walls.

"Don't even need guns," she clucked, disappointed. The Affinity screeched, wrenching the bent sousaphone away, but Bayonetta had already moved onto another target. She danced in a similar arc through the gathered Affinities, dodging blows from the clumsy Beloved while gunning down stragglers. A small force like this was no match for her; it wasn't even enough to wet her appetite. Now, if an Inspired came... _that_ might prove to more of a challenge. Though not by much, she thought sadly, throwing her head back to avoid a spear thrust.

Luka continued snapping shot after shot of the scene, murmuring excitedly behind the camera. " _This_ is new," he muttered, still taking pictures. "I should be glad I made that trip to Japan. I owe Rodin a few more bottles of sake after this."

"Ah," Bayonetta murmured sweetly, gliding a finger underneath a quivering Affinity's beaklike chin, rubbing it tenderly. She took her other hand and smoothed it over her body, sifting through the folds of her gown, brushing at the blood caking her front. "Look what you naughty boys have done...you've painted me such an ugly red. How will I explain this to the children?"

The Affinity audibly swallowed, a surprise to both Bayonetta and Luka. Luka, mostly because he could _hear_ the commotion clearer than ever, and Bayonetta, because Paradiso's lowest soldiers were only known for their loud squeaks, not their...well, whatever else they did. They could be able to take dumps and she would be surprised.

(They probably didn't poop since they didn't need to eat, but the image of one bending over a classic squat toilet reminded her of the time Jeanne had to take a shit during sex. It was probably one of the wildest nights of her life. It ended somewhat safely, but she wasn't sure Jeanne had ever taken the phrase 'get me shitfaced' so literally until that fateful day.)

(Miles away, Jeanne sneezed.)

"Say that again," Bayonetta raised an eyebrow. The Affinity made a tired squawk, resigned to its fate. "Alright, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." She relinquished her hold on the timid angel. "Go on. Leave."

Surrounded by its peers, the Affinity raised a clawed hand in common salute and scurried out of the courtyard, taking flight. It went straight through into Paradiso, opening a portal along the way. Probably going to report to its seniors - though what good that would do was beyond Bayonetta at this point.

Meanwhile, the other Affinities had bunched together tightly, the Beloved trampling any stragglers as it ran towards its nemesis. The poor birdlike creatures were too busy trying to avoid getting killed by their own ally that Bayonetta almost felt pity for them. They didn't exactly seem to like chasing after her, considering every last one of them who did always met the same exact fate: a trip straight to Inferno.

Leaping high above the garbling Beloved, Bayonetta took a cursory glance at the monster's grotesque baby face. It glared up at her from below, its stony, childlike features twisted into a look of sheer hatred. Whoever designed these things really needed some fashion advice - or needed to stop looking into the mirror.

" _You will never find peace,_ " the creature roared, voice somehow a mix between a child and the baritone a grown man. " _As those before you, time will betray again._ "

"Ah," Bayonetta sighed, falling toward the ground with her back turned to the raging Beloved, "they never stop talking, do they?"

At the last moment, Bayonetta flipped to meet the axe of the Beloved with her heel, effectively blocking most of the impact. Using the momentum she gained from the parry, she dived behind its exposed back and delivered a barrage of sound blows to its pulsing red node. The Beloved staggered, then fell to the ground, stunned by the intensity of the attack. At this, the witch smiled. She looked up into the sky, feeling the first drops of rain stinging her cheeks. "I don't have time for this," she murmured, good-naturedly. Spinning in her signature moveset, displaying her abundant skill, Bayonetta flashed the downed angel with a brief show of her bare backside at the end of her demonic chant.

" _Avavago!_ "

Gomorrah's scream resounded through the air, and Luka palmed his face twice, checking his glasses, before he could believe what he was seeing. The draconic demon lunged forth from the portal, wreathed in Umbra hair, and snatched the Beloved off the ground, throwing it into the sky. As the Beloved writhed in midair, Gomorrah lunged upwards and caught it in its widened mouth, gnashing furiously at the angel and crushing its midsection between its fangs.

Delivering one final roar of defiance, Gomorrah's head disappeared back into the portal to Inferno, content with its meal. Bayonetta smiled wickedly as the remaining Affinities scrambled to escape, beating their wings in a desperate bid for freedom. She lazily gunned the rest of them down with her cheap handguns, taking pleasure in hearing their dying screeches.

Luka stood up from behind his trash can and gave her another thumbs up. "You know what? Holy shit," he said, looking mildly pleased yet also extremely perturbed.

Bayonetta raised an eyebrow, fully garbed in her battle uniform, since her nightgown had been ripped during the summoning process. "And what are you doing at this ungodly hour, Cheshire?"

"Doing my job," he replied, shrugging. "I was snooping around to see if I could find anything, okay? Rodin said there'd be something good happening here, but I didn't plan on actually stumbling into a fight between both powers."

The Umbra witch turned her full attention onto Luka. "A fight between both powers?"

Luka waved a hand. "You know, the two powers you always seem to be fighting," he answered. "Paradiso and Inferno."

"Inhabitants of Inferno aren't able to materialize in this world without a conduit," Bayonetta remarked, a bit stiffly.

"Well, you tell that to the ones crawling around town," Luka told her, pointing toward the Dump. "They've been lurking everywhere, picking fights with the local angels. I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet. The two have been going at it since, well, a few months ago."

"Is this what you were doing, then?" Bayonetta leveled him with a suspicious gaze. "You skipped out on Halloween and handed two uncomfortable children to Jeanne and I in order to satisfy your unending curiosity?"

Luka whistled innocently, tucking the pair of glasses into his shirt. "You could say that," he admitted. "But I was gathering good intel, so you should be happy with the results. Here. Take a look." He handed her his camera.

Bayonetta went through the photos, examining each with a calculating eye. "Luka, how did you...?"

"Well, if it works on glasses," Luka grinned, rubbing his nose expertly, "then it should work with cameras, too, eh? I asked Rodin to fix these for me. They're a bit modified, but they do the trick."

"These pictures," she said, angling the camera to get a better look. "Very high quality. You can see the fleshiest part of the Beloved from here."

"I got your dragon in there, too," Luka said, conversationally, trying to hide his excitement and failing.

"And Gomorrah," Bayonetta agreed, staring at the photo of her and Gomorrah snapping the Beloved up in its jaws. She handed the camera back to him. "Cheshire, what exactly do you intend to do with this?"

"I've got pictures of your demon friends in there." Luka took the camera back with unexpected grace. "Look, people will think these are all bogus, so I've no intention on releasing them to the public. Maybe in the next book, when they think it's all make believe. But the stuff I've got in here might help you identify what's causing all this bullshit to happen downtown."

"I haven't seen any demons lately," Bayonetta nodded briskly, narrowing her eyes. "Haven't seen them since I went down into hell myself, actually."

"Then all these photos might help convince you that they're here to fuck with the mortal realm," Luka glanced at her briefly, debating on whether or not to continue. "Look, I'm glad you came out to save me. I probably would've gotten my ass handed to me on a silver platter if you didn't come along, but I think it's best if we went on home and had a chat. With Jeanne, of course."

"Yes. Let's." Bayonetta began moving along the pathway out of the courtyard, still in Purgatorio. Luka fumbled for his glasses to keep up with her pace as they covered the ground towards their penthouse.

"You're going to be in for a surprise," he told her, an expression of discomfort on his usually cheery features. "Well. At least by the time I get through what Rodin told me yesterday."

Bayonetta sighed deeply.

Of _course_ it would be Rodin.

 

\--

 

Bayonetta sparked the purplish fire in her hand, carrying it high above her head as a guiding light. Jeanne watched from the other corner of the room, running a gentle hand through El's soft hair, his sleeping face framed by the glow of the lavender flame.

Gwyn had her back turned to the scene, breathing steadily in a deep slumber. Both children were sleeping soundly, ignorant of all that happened around them; Bayonetta, to stay on the safe side, remained in Purgatorio while Jeanne and Luka sat in the bedroom to accompany the kids, in case they woke.

Jeanne kept running her long fingers along the ruffles of El's platinum locks, rolling the delicate strands of hair between her fingers. In a way, they did look alike - similar enough to be mistaken for family, at least. Gwyn's annoyance may have been connected to the fact that she didn't, in any way, look similar to any of her foster parents. Exempting the black hair, she was completely alienated in terms of appearance. Not that it should matter, Jeanne thought.

"So," Jeanne said, glancing at Luka, "You were saying...?"

Luka pointed at the flame. "That's the key to everything," he told the two witches solemnly. "It'll help move the explanation along. Here, give it to me."

"Are you sure?" Bayonetta raised an eyebrow. "Can you even hold it?"

Luka waved a hand. "I've been spending some quality time with Rodin," he said, cheekily. "Being a helping hand has its benefits. He's been fixing me with some new goods." He flexed his hand, indicating the new black leather gloves he wore. "These babies'll get me into Purgatorio if I willed it. Just a flick, and bam! I'm in. For a few minutes, at least."

"Huh." Bayonetta held her hand out, the flame flickering in the night. "Take it, then."

Luka pushed his hand forward, as if blocked by an imaginary force, before the invisible barrier to Purgatorio gave way with a loud _snap_. He grasped the flame tightly, squeezing it in his hand. "You haven't opened it," he said, surprised.

"I forgot to ask Jeanne," Bayonetta shrugged, and Jeanne threw her an incredulous look from her bedside.

"Doesn't matter." Luka twirled the flame in his hand, letting it rise and fall in a steady rhythm akin to a dance. He paused, looking at the kids. Shaking his head, Luka let the flame beat in a melismatic song, its eerie flickers rising in tandem with a feverish pitch emitting from the center of the fire.

It expanded with a quiet _pop_ , filling the room with a brilliant white light. For a few moments, they found themselves surrounded by pure white, floating in an empty space between past and present, before the imagery around them began to settle.

The towering Umbran structures from five hundred years past grew around them, jutting out from the ground in a way that imposed great trepidation. They reached out toward the sky, the symbol of the Umbran way - the clock tower - stretching high above the rest of the buildings, in the far, far distance. It was a familiar sight.

Bayonetta reached out a hesitant hand, trying to see if she could feel the stone walls of her old home once again; but they passed through the memory. What was once solid was now intangible to her. _Just a memory,_ she remembered, and dropped her hand, eyes on a flowering grove in front of them.

Jeanne watched her friend's epiphany with ill-hidden sadness. She understood that yearning, but there was nothing but unhappy memories shrouding this half of the era. The death of her mother and the rest of their brethren was only years, if not moments, away.

"Balder," came a whisper from behind the grove.

All three newcomers whipped their heads around, startled by the feminine voice. Bayonetta swallowed thickly, and Jeanne putting a firm hand on her shoulder, eyes scanning the area.

There was a shuffling from the opposite end of the scene, and Bayonetta could see a flash of white and gold moving along the side of each building, somehow camouflaged in the night.

"My love," was the return.

Bayonetta went pale.

"Oh, man," Luka muttered.

Rosa approached, dressed in the limpid black uniform of jailed Umbra witches, the chains still hanging tightly from her neck and limbs. Balder stood, stock-still, illuminated by the pale light of the waning moon; his entire body seemed to glow brighter in the presence of his lover.

"Rosa," Balder breathed, hesitantly reaching a gloved hand out to touch the side of her cheek. Rosa leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and cupping his hand with both of her own.

"It's not too late," she said, leaning into his wavering hold. "You can leave."

"No, _you_ must," he told her, a hint of aching pain in his voice. "Rosa, _please_. If not for me - if not for _you_ \- then for Cereza. For our child."

Rosa opened her eyes, grey meeting grey in a quiet standoff. "I cannot abandon my people," she narrowed her eyes from behind the butterfly glasses. "These chains are but a reminder of my sins, Balder. I am sorry."

"You could escape without leaving a trace behind," Balder protest, albeit weakly. "We could take Cereza and go."

"To where?" Rosa asked, forlorn in her correspondence. "We have nowhere to turn to, Balder. Our child - "

"Would understand," Balder ended, tightly grasping her hands in his own. He pressed forward, wrapping both muscular arms around her in a longing embrace that betrayed all his swirling emotions.

"I love you," Rosa murmured, face buried in his chest. She suddenly looked small, a sign of all her weariness and fears, encased in a shelter of gentle, glimmering light.

"Stay with me," Balder whispered, resting his chin on the side of her temple. "I cannot stop them."

"You do not need to," she replied, muffled by the broad expanse of his chest. "The Umbra never fail."

Balder let out an ill-natured chuckle. "Do they?" he said, a pang of guilt stabbing his chest. "Do you really believe that the few who remain will stand a chance against the united powers of Paradiso? Rosa, this is complete and utter _madness_. I will not stand by and allow my - my love, my daughter, everything I have sought to protect - "

He choked on his words, and the tears began to fall freely, staining his cheeks a watery hue. Rosa looked up from the embrace, nudging her face in between the crook of his neck and his collarbone. "Oh, Balder," she sighed, wistfully, and he broke into a weeping mess before her, falling to his knees.

"I think that's enough," Luka whispered, and snuffed the weakened flame with a snap of his fingers.

 

 

\--

 

 

Bayonetta sat beside Jeanne, shakily staring down at the carpeted floor, mind racing. Jeanne let her lean into her shoulder for support, exchanging knowing looks with Luka.

"I think," Luka said, quietly, "I let that go on a bit too long."

"Maybe," Jeanne agreed, and gently ran her hands through Bayonetta's disheveled hair, smoothing the rampant strands that stuck out.

"But the point is," Luka continued, trying to lighten the mood, "is that that...never happened."

Bayonetta stared blankly.

"Okay, look." Luka retracted his hand, letting it pass back into the human world, leaving the memory floating in Purgatorio. "Rodin keeps track of time, and the memories of the past. He's...lived long enough to see everything with his own eyes. But that never happened. Your parents never met before the final battle, Cereza," he told her, using her real name.

"Twenty years," Bayonetta raised her head from Jeanne's shoulder. "She said they hadn't seen each other for twenty years."

"If we go by that logic, none of their conversation would have made sense," Jeanne frowned, continuing to pet Bayonetta's hair. "Then - ?"

"Bingo." Luka clicked his tongue. "You'll have to ask Rodin if you want to understand the details - trust me, I don't get it myself - but something's thrown _everything_ out of whack. Every damn law that ruled the three Trinities of Reality have been permanently busted out of existence. That includes demonic relationships, contracts, the role of humans, and, of course, _timelines_."

Jeanne smarted. "Oh, _no_ ," she cursed.

"What?" Bayonetta turned sharply to glance at her fellow witch.

Jeanne shook her head, realization dawning on her pale features. "Cereza, don't you understand?" she near gasped, and shifted places in her seat on the bed. "It's because - "

"Yeah. The Eyes. Wacky shit, I know."

A hooded boy clambered through the window, half-stuck between the small opening. He raised a hand in salute, Aesir's familiar triangular mark burned on his forehead. All three of the penthouse inhabitants stared at him with slack faces, shocked into complete silence.

He raised an eyebrow comically, and turned his icy gaze to the two unmoving children on the bed besides Jeanne and Bayonetta. "I spent two days trying to figure out where you lived," he said, annoyed, still stuck in the window. "Now you've got kids and a shit ton more problems to deal with, eh, love?"

"Mummy," came a weak whisper from the bed.

"El, shut the fuck up," Gwyn groaned inaudibly, but loud enough for Jeanne to hear.

Bayonetta, Jeanne, and Luka exchanged weary glances.

"Looks like I've got a lot of explaining to do," Loki smiled, throwing off the hood, his face a mask of determination and grim understanding. "Well, the earlier the better, don't you agree?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I was gonna write more about Balduh and Rosa but I didn't want to ruin the fun of drawing out their scenes so early in the story
> 
> also Loki could definitely have had a better entrance, but I wanted to use the in-through-the-window trope really badly and that's how I've done it. HAPPY BAYONETTA WEEK! CONGRATS ON GETTING INTO SM4SH, MY BEAUTIFUL ROLE MODEL. I would buy a Wii U just to play sm4sh with her.
> 
> also again: no more fucking fluff for the next few chapters (I think...?). you've all had enough fluff. the Pain Train™ has revved its engines and we're starting our long journey to hell together. chugga chugga choo choo they're all doomed. (It took me a while to think of a chapter name so here's a generic one)


	6. An Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But every end marks a new beginning.

She dreams that night.

The feathers of a fallen angel rained upon sweet summer flowers, spreading a gentle aroma of honey into the stale, lifeless air; the sky is filled with paper hearts, and a woman with chains wound around her athletic body watches her from afar, eyes soft with emotion behind butterfly glasses.

Gwyn grabs a paper heart and opens it. Inside, there are pictures of people she does not recognize. A man with eyes like her brother stares out at her, face pale but smile lively. Besides him is the chained woman, but there is a bundle in her arms.

It is a very pretty photo, Gwyn thinks, and plucks another heart out of the air. She finds more photos of the woman, this time; just simple images of her covered face, perhaps at an angle, or looking over a dim-lit balcony. The more paper hearts she opens, the darker that photos become, until they are an intangible swabs of black upon sheets of paper.

She remembers another girl that she does not actually remember meeting putting paper stars in a jar, humming an old tune in a language Gwyn does not remotely recognize. Another gives crudely made roses to her mother, who smiles indulgently.

It takes only moments before the dream begins to fade, gone as quickly as it came. The woman pauses, clutches a golden pendant to her breast, and unhooks it from around her neck to place at her feet.

The little girl of the dream reaches out a quivering hand, and the woman turns away, leaving behind the golden gift in the grass.

"Wait," she says, and feels her heart skip a beat in her chest.

"In another life," the woman responds, quietly, kindly, and Gwyn feels her head ache from the sound of it. Her voice was not loud or grating, but it held such a volatile quality, a livid tone underneath layers of disquiet, that even Gwyn understood pursuing her was not a good idea.

There is no note of finality in her voice, however.

Gwyn holds onto the hope that she will see the beautiful woman again, and the green fields begin to fade into nothingness once more.

 

 

\--

 

 

Loki grabbed the windowsill with sweaty hands, exerting just enough pressure to pull himself out of his precarious position between the two windowpanes. The boy fell onto the ground with a graceful step, patting himself down in case he'd lost anything in the fall.

Frail, lingering fingers wrapped around the curve of his neck, and Loki was once again finding himself kneeling on the ground, fear curling in the pit of his stomach. Bayonetta reached for him, slightly more instinctive in the action, but Jeanne held out an appraising hand.

"Wait a moment," she said, but sounded more worried than she looked.

Loki regained his senses within the next minute, though he still breathed through his mouth as if someone was going to grab him any second now. "I'm sorry, love," he shook his head, rubbing a hand on his forehead. "There's...a lot of trouble, and I'm in the thick of it. Again."

"Unsurprising," Bayonetta sighed, and Luka shrugged, nonplussed. They were well over their initial shock, though Luka still looked put out over the whole debacle.

The two children, tucked neatly underneath the covers, wriggled incessantly as the conversation continued. Jeanne lightly smacked one of the bundles with her hand, a feeble attempt at silencing the curious siblings. In the end, Gwyn peaked out from beneath the covers, one gray eye glaring directly at Bayonetta.

A jolt of trepidation ran through the witches as Gwyn narrowed her eyes, blinking rapidly. But it seemed to be a trick of the light, and the girl turned back to her other foster parents, looking incredulous. "What's going on?" she asked, pointedly ignoring her brother's little squeaks of curiosity.

"Nothing," Jeanne and Luka intoned, their voices in complete unison. Luka decided to take over for the disgruntled witch. "It was getting a bit chilly, so I thought it'd be nice to get a window open and let the air run through."

"If it was cold, wouldn't that be a bad idea?" Gwyn said, dubiously.

"Shit - No, I wanted the air circulation, you know? It's cold, so I needed to get some extra fresh air so it's more comfortable before we - it's grown up stuff, alright? You learn this as you go."

"Nice try, Cheshire," Bayonetta stood and leaned over to whisper in Luka's ear. "You should work on lying more often. You're horrible."

"Uh-huh," Gwyn frowned as El cried foul play from besides her. "Uh, sure."

Loki stared at the children before deciding that they were no threat to his position in the witchy hierarchy, though he needed time readjusting since the Luka fellow was now...well, more than a friend of theirs? Something like that? He shook his head and filed away the thought for later.

Gwyn took one last slow look at Jeanne and Luka before settling down back into bed. "Weird," she muttered. "Swore she was just like mom."

"Who?" El asked, directed at his sister. Luka paused, hoping their attention was slipping.

"Aw, nothing," Gwyneth sighed, and patted her foster brother. "It's getting noisy. Let's sleep, okay?"

"Okay, okay," El mimicked, but snuggled into her side, and a few cautious minutes - maybe even twenty - passed before the two were in a deep enough sleep for the adults to continue their extremely serious and super important conversation.

Loki looked between the two witches and their journalist friend before speaking again. "I didn't exactly _choose_ to get reborn," he said. "Things just happened to go that way. I mean, convenient enough, yeah, but it's put a real damper on life as it is.

I believed it when I told you humans could make things right in time. And maybe I was being a bit too optimistic back then, I'll admit. Hell, you even said it was a stupid idea, and let me tell you...ain't been more right, honestly, since Paradiso and Inferno are sealed off and portals are knocking off like crazy."

"Wait a second," Luka shot up from his seat. "So it's _your_ fault I almost died all those nights ago?!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about so probably not," Loki huffed in returned. "I just said I'm back _now_ , meaning _this week_ , so I didn't trigger this whole shitstorm by myself, alright? It's 'cause the eyes are gone, and that means there's no balance between the Trinities."

"As we suspected," Jeanne sighed, kicking Bayonetta in the shins. "This is your fault, again."

"Stop blaming me," the witch frowned, kicking back. "I was just doing what I thought was best, and that usually works. It certainly worked with you."

"We lost both Eyes last year, and that was your fault," Jeanne snapped, though without venom. "Though yes, we can hardly blame you."

Loki waved a hand to catch their attention again. "Look, the longer I stay here, the worse it's gonna get," he said, annoyed. "I don't know how to fix it, exactly. But I can get started with what I have."

"That means you need extra hands, doesn't it?" Bayonetta sighed. "Just ask directly if you want help, little one."

"F-fine! I need help, pronto, because I'm getting chased. Again! It's already been too long and it's gonna catch up!"

"By what?"

"I don't know, some stupid demon dog with heads for paws?!"

Jeanne and Bayonetta practically threw themselves out the window in unison, leaving the bedside unusually cold. Luka moved over to take over Jeanne's vacancy, lest it wake the children. "Hey, kid," Luka smiled wickedly at a tired Loki. "Better get a move on or they'll outpace you."

"I know," Loki grumbled, but leapt off the window with about as much grace as he could muster, transforming into a flying squirrel at the last moment.

"Seems like your parents're gonna be gone for a bit," Luka said, softly, mostly to himself as he watched the sleeping children. "I'll stay, then."

 

 

\--

 

 

Jeanne and Bayonetta (and Loki, for that matter) were dashing through the deserted streets in Purgatorio, following their instincts to lead them to their target. The distant thundering of steps were enough to go by, though it was heading in erratic directions.

"We're circling it," Jeanne shouted against the brittle wind. Bayonetta nodded once in clear agreement, and the two sped off in a pincer attack form.

Labolas was panting loudly as it streamed against the chains that bound it to Inferno, but it was making grounds toward Loki. With each heavy pawstep came an explosion of debris, alerting the local populace, but Jeanne had already begun her descent on its face.

With a single, swift jab of her heel, the demon wheeled back and screamed in pain as its right eye was pierced. It clawed at its new enemy, but Jeanne was swift enough to dodge without batting an eyelash. Bayonetta, following the plan, intercepted the beast's unprotected side, ramming it full force with Madama Butterfly's fist.

As Labolas engaged the two witches, Hideous began pouring from the seething, burning ground. Each step the demon took out in the open seemed to open gates to Inferno; an occurrence unheard of in practically all the millennia the witches and sages had lived. Bayonetta shouted a warning to Jeanne as a Hideous managed to leap off Labolas' back and barely miss the witch's exposed back.

Another group of Hideous led by two Hatreds flung themselves upon the greater demon's back, slicing at the air in feeble attempts to hit the nimble witches. It did not take Jeanne long to dispatch them, though Bayonetta had some trouble hitting Labolas without gathering to much attention from the growing mobs beneath.

It wasn't before long that Bayonetta landed a decisive blow on Labolas's left eye, causing the creature to scream into the heavens, the mobs of Hideous and Hatred beneath seething with new anger. The next step the beast took was cataclysmic - the portal that appeared practically covered the entirety of his gigantic foot, and more so. As the witches fought, the ghastly forms of Resentment, Greed, Pain, and even Pride began dragging themselves, inch by inch, out of Inferno.

"This is way too much to take in," Bayonetta sighed, side-stepping one of Labolas's many claws while midair. "I barely wake up, and the world is ending? Just like that?"

"Cereza! _Cereza, move!_ "

Bayonetta reacted just in time to see Malphas thrust itself out of the combined portals and into the air, smashing into her left arm. Hissing in pain, she drew upon herself and kicked outwards, gauging their situation.

"Where's Loki?" she asked, as Jeanne fell into step besides her.

"I don't know," Jeanne said, clearly worried and worn from battle, though this was usual. "Be more careful. We haven't fought demons in - forever."

"I know that," Bayonetta laughed. "They can't touch us if we don't let them."

"I mean it, Cereza - "

The other witch flung herself away from her platinum-haired comrade, leaping towards Labolas with renewed vigor. She shot the demon with a few rounds of her pistols, kicking away jumping Hideous and Hatreds while gaining speed toward the unrelenting dog-demon.

Jeanne, on the other hand, was entangled in a quick-succession battle with Malphas, who seemed intent on seeing that its former masters be torn apart with no mercy. Her attacks did little damage against the feathered hide of the bird, but it was enough to slow it so that it missed her.

It was from this vantage that Jeanne saw the events unfold beneath her. Labolas opened its jaws - Bayonetta swept to the side in an effort to avoid being crushed - the Pain hurled upwards by a group of Hatreds - a close dodge - then the rush of wings, Malphas's dive, barely blocked by Madama Styx's arm - and finally the arrival of Scolopendra.

Scolopendra, more aptly put - the wicked centipede from hell, and a pretty big asshole - knocked Bayonetta off her feet with a scuttle of fangs. Regaining balance midair, Bayonetta barely dodged an attack from Resentment, who had shot forth to steal her soul.

That jump away from Resentment spelled disaster.

Labolas reached forward with its claws, swiping the witch off her feet again as it howled away its last breaths; Scolopendra snapped its jaws closed over Bayonetta's foot, dangling the witch from its mouth; and the rest happened in a red blur that Jeanne could barely remember as a portal opened from beside her, and another Malphas dived into her side even as the other fell into the abyss, dying.

By the time she awoke, Loki was standing over her, Rodin only a few feet away and smoking an oddly large cigar.

"Shit, shit shit _shit_ ," the boy muttered, watching her wake up. "Oh, fuck! Look - fucking hell, really! I could only save one of them!"

"Well," Rodin said. "Looks like things are getting a little out of hand."

"What is - where is Cereza?" Jeanne clutched the side of her head - felt blood there - and promptly let it fall into a flurry of flowers. "What happened?"

"Bayonetta is pretty dead," Rodin said, taking a long drag from the cigar. "And so is one of your kids, so I've heard."

All color drained from Jeanne's face.

Loki looked desperate. "I was wrong," he said, frantically. "I only had enough strength left to save you - I didn't get a moment to even pick which one of you I could get. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jeanne murmured, but she wasn't sure how to let the words sink in. If they were even true. "Where is Luka?"

"With the girl," Loki said. "They're alright. Or as alright as they can be. But she almost got snatched, too. If it weren't for Rodin..."

"If it weren't for Enzo's habit of checking on the two of you, I would have lost all my business," Rodin said, in his distinct baritone voice. "Think of it as a down payment. An investment for the witches."

Loki swallowed. "It's a lot to take in, I know," he said, quietly, "I think - Luka and the kid should be back - "

Footsteps, then Jeanne could see the brim of Luka's signature hat. "Jeanne! Jeanne, thank god, you're awake. We thought - "

"I thought you were dead," Gwyn burbled, and Jeanne could see the tears streaking down her face as the girl ran towards her, throwing tiny, gangly arms around her. "I thought they killed everyone again! I was afraid this would happen! It _always_ happens!"

A moment of complete stillness as Jeanne felt the arms tug at her in Purgatorio, and Jeanne finally drew breath again.

"She has the sight," Rodin said.

Loki looked at his hands, then at Jeanne's. "I lost her - Bayonetta," he said. "But we can find a way. She got you back once with my help. I...I can..."

Rodin sighed, and let the cigar fall to the ground. He crushed it with his heel, grinding it into fine dust. "Your legacy isn't lost," he said, and Jeanne saw a flicker of a smile.

"I'm right here," Luka grumbled. "Where're my cool lines? Besides, Bayonetta isn't one to roll over and die just because she got used as a chew toy. Honestly!"

Jeanne, every muscle and bone aching, drew into herself and leaned into the little girl's touch. Gwyneth did not dare let go of one of the only anchors she had left. "There's a way, right?" came the softest whisper, Gwyn shivering against her mother's chest, "I know...there's a way, right? To save her? Right, mom?"

And, with her mind empty of all other thought, Jeanne cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *places offering and slinks away in shame*
> 
> (what is pacing...lmao...)
> 
> "bayonetta should have won tho" yeah honestly i thought so too. but here I am god and I must do what I must do to get the story going. it would take another aesir to knock her off her high horse and you know what? I am not gonna throw that dude in here to antagonize everyone without good reason yet so sorry y'all. I disappointed ya.


End file.
